


Love Me Twice

by Takada_Saiko



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Keen2, Memory Loss, Tom Lives, badass Tom Bond is back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 134,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takada_Saiko/pseuds/Takada_Saiko
Summary: After saving Tom’s life, Red has a memory specialist attempt to alter the memory of what he found in the DNA test linked to the bones. Something goes wrong in the process that costs Tom 10 years worth of memories. With no recollection of Liz, Agnes, or anything that they’ve all been through, Tom - Jacob Phelps - escapes back to St Regis to recover and resume the career he doesn’t realize that he left.Two and a half years later he is hired by a mystery woman to watch and protect Special Agent Elizabeth Keen from the threats that surround her. It doesn’t take long for him to realize there’s a connection there, and Tom finds himself starting down the path to try to recover his missing memories and rediscover who he had become before he lost them.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Tom Keen | Jacob Phelps
Comments: 68
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_November 2017_

He could hear them, the voices fading in and out like the lights overhead. They were quiet muffled and hurried, but he couldn't focus in enough to make out what they were saying.

His mind grappled to hold onto what was happening amidst the pain and the fog that settled around him. At some point everything must have faded away, but he didn't realize it until new voices broke slowly through the haze.

"It's too much of a risk." Quiet. Male. He couldn't be sure if it had been a part of the myriad of voices from earlier. All he knew was that it wasn't a voice that he recognized.

"Perhaps. We're in uncharted territory," another voice chimed in. Also male, but this one accented. Slavic, maybe. He was having a hard enough time focusing on the words. He needed to open his eyes. To see their faces. Maybe he could start piecing together what happened.

"From what I understand, your entire practice is uncharted territory," the first voice snapped quietly. There was a beat of pause and when he spoke again, his tone turned pleading. "We nearly lost him once on the way here and again during surgery. You asked us to save this man."

Tom Keen finally pried his eyes open to try to get a look at the owners of the two voices. He struggled through the telltale signs of heavy pain medication to see three blurred figures instead of two. One turned towards him and Tom blinked hard to try to bring him into focus. He was missing his contacts, but by squinting a little he was able to make out an all too familiar face and the owner of the third voice he was yet to hear until now. "Thank you, Andrei. We'll hold off for now," Raymond Reddington told a man with dark hair, the dismissal clear, and he waited until he was on his way out before he turned back to Tom. "Hello."

"Where…?" he tried, but his voice was rough, his throat so raw that the single word sent him into a coughing fit. His left side felt like it was on fire, the pain cutting through the medication, and suddenly there was a cup with a straw in front of his face.

"Easy," the first voice - the quieter one. East Coast, but not DC. Maybe Connecticut? - said and Tom finally managed to focus on the man offering the water. Mid forties and in a white coat, he looked like he might be a doctor. "We just removed the tube this morning. You're likely to have quite a sore throat. Drink this."

Tom took a careful sip, wincing as he did, but it helped ease the scratchiness in his throat. "Where am I?" he pressed, the pain helping to focus him now that it was starting to recede.

"Thank you, Dr Chen," Reddington said. "I'll handle his questions."

The doctor - Chen - turned a wary look on Reddington. "He needs rest."

Reddington flashed that irritatingly charming smile. "This won't take long."

Chen lingered for just a moment before moving past Reddington, leaving Tom alone with the man he'd spent the last couple months investigating. Once the doctor was gone, a pair of clear blue eyes turned back to him. "Good morning, Tom."

"Where am I? How long have I been out?"

Reddington pushed a short breath out through his nose. "A private facility. It's been a week. I wouldn't do that."

Tom was in the process of shifting, hoping to prop himself up a little more, but he didn't make it that far. Instead he grit his teeth and had to let the new wave of pain pass.

"You were injured," Reddington's voice cut through. "Do you remember how?"

He was pushing that for some reason. There were no long, drawn out stories. No lecture or monologue. He was direct, which meant there was something important there. Tom could piece together that much, but he was having trouble catching hold of his fractured memories to find something that made sense.

"Tom, I need you to focus," Reddington prodded, his voice surprisingly patient.

"The lights," Tom managed, squeezing his eyes shut. Lights and voices, but there was something before that. Right. What he'd been investigating. The bones that Mr Kaplan had sent. The bones, the train station, the men that had broken into their home... Then it hit him. Between the attack and the lights. That's what he was missing. "Liz couldn't keep her eyes open." He opened his own again, his focus a little sharper. "Where is she? Where's my wife?"

Reddington didn't answer that question, and Tom didn't like the tenseness that settled over him. The slight twitch of his lips, the way his brow creased, and as Tom studied him he couldn't help but see how tired the older man looked. It wasn't like Reddington was losing sleep over him, so that left one person.

Tom cleared his throat painfully. "I'm not an idiot, Reddington. She's alive. If she weren't, you and I both know I wouldn't be here. I'm not worth anything to you alive unless she made it."

There was another long pause and the machine to Tom's right beeped, drawing Reddington's gaze. "She's alive," he said noncommittally. "And safe."

"Where is my wife?" Reddington continued to watch the machine, the steady sounds all that was filling the otherwise silent room. He was stalling. "Hey." Tom waited until he turned to look at him again. "I want to see her."

"In time," Reddington answered, his lips turning down again. "What do you remember about the men that attacked you and Elizabeth?"

"That they were after your secret," Tom said pointedly. "The one I told you would get us hurt."

Reddington snorted, shaking his head. "Your inability to let something that had nothing to do with you go is why you're hurt, Tom. I'm the reason you're both still alive."

The younger man winced, the foggy feeling he'd woken to creeping back up on him. "You want gratitude for saving our lives, fine, but I'm not lying to her for you. I'm not keeping your secret from her. She deserves to… deserves to know."

"We'll see about that," Reddington answered tightly and turned.

Tom tried to call after him, but he couldn't seem to force the words. Instead he felt like he was being pulled underwater. Somewhere in the back of his mind it clicked that the machine by the bedside that Reddington had been so fascinated with had pushed a new dose of painkillers through. He'd known Tom wouldn't be awake long, or even be able to argue back. But he couldn't keep him under forever, and he had no way to turn the clock back to rebury that secret that Tom had discovered. It was a matter of time until he was on his feet again. Once he was he would find Liz. Reddington couldn't keep them separated forever.

* * *

Chen was speaking quietly to Dembe as he left the room, but split off to go check on his patient as Reddington brushed past him. He could feel Dembe's dark gaze lingering on him as he moved past. Dembe fell into step behind him, both men making their way down the short hall. "He is not going to let this go."

Red made a small sound of acknowledgement. "He's stubborn. He comes by it naturally enough."

"So is she," the younger man responded as they rounded into the private room just down from Tom and Reddington's gaze fell on the woman lying in the bed.

He had started to put precautions into place as soon as he realized things were spiraling out of control. A call to a well-connected business associate that was both discrete and had owed him a favour or five had landed him with the option of faking both Elizabeth and her husband's deaths to take them into hiding and away from the threat until he could regain control of it. He hadn't been able to move Elizabeth though. Not immediately. Not without risking her life. She hadn't been the one that Reddington's enemies had been after. They thought the connection was Tom, which gave Red some room to breathe when it came to Elizabeth's safety. He had had to make a judgement call when it came to her husband though, and Tom hadn't been in any condition to weigh in. Not that his judgement had been particularly sound lately. If he'd just left that damn suitcase alone, they wouldn't be in this mess.

But they were in this mess and the body double in the morgue would buy Reddington time. Time he needed for damage control. He needed to focus on getting the bones back and making sure Elizabeth came back to them. He didn't have time to babysit Tom Keen and his misguided, shortsighted desire to put everything out on the table.

"She is," Reddington answered Dembe, his gaze locked on Elizabeth. She was so still. The doctors couldn't tell him when - _if_ \- she would wake up. The surgery had been counted a success, but she hadn't come out of it yet. He needed to make sure that Tom remained quiet about what he knew when she did. Part of Reddington knew he had caused himself more trouble by saving him, but as he looked down at Elizabeth he remembered the way she had fought for her husband. The way she loved him, if Tom deserved it or not. It would shatter her to lose him now, and she had suffered enough.

"Had he told her?"

That finally pulled his attention around. "He was on his way to tell her what he found," Reddington murmured thoughtfully, "but I don't believe he had a chance to, no."

A long since stretched and Reddington turned back to Elizabeth, reaching down to tuck a strand of dark hair back, not quite able to put it behind her ear with the way the breathing tube was secured.

"It would be better coming from you," Dembe said after a long moment.

"So you've said."

"It is better than either of the alternative options."

"Hardly," Reddington huffed and shook his head. "I could negotiate peace between some of the most ruthless that our world has seen, but he truly thinks he's protecting her. If he refuses to budge, Andrei will be ready. He studied under Krilov. Let's hope he's as talented as his mentor with less of an inclination to betray me."

"Even if Andrei is able to remove the memories, it won't stop him. A blank space will only send him searching again."

"Oh no. He'll replace them with something… less damning." He stepped forward, reaching out for Elizabeth's hand that laid still against the sheets. He ran his thumb along her knuckles, brows drawn together and a grimace pulling at his lips. "We'll give Tom a week or two to regain some of his strength before the procedure. If Elizabeth wakes up first, we'll handle it, but if not, she'll have her husband back without either of them the wiser. It's best for everyone."

He could almost hear Dembe's disagreement in his silence, but the younger man didn't vocalize it again. It was a waste of time and energy for a subject that Reddington considered closed. There was little point in trying to convince Tom to choose the right course of action. This was the only play he could see that would work out for everyone involved.

* * *

It was like starting over at the beginning, grappling for memories he was certain he had gotten ahold of the last time he had resurfaced. He thought they came back a little quicker each time though. It was tough to say with the heavy curtains pulled closed over the single window and no clock visible from the bed he was confined to.

Tom shifted, gritting his teeth as he forced himself up on his elbows, feeling the pull of the wound in his left shoulder and the knife wounds along his left side just before it collapsed under him, sending him falling hard against the pillows. He laid there a moment, fighting against the pain and the dark spots that threatened his vision. It took a moment before they cleared and he blinked hard.

No one came into the room. Tom was relatively sure that the last time he had tried to sit up that one of the doctors or nurses had appeared out of nowhere to force him back down against the pillows and dosed him with enough painkillers that he couldn't even think about trying again for…. well, however long it had been since they'd done it. Not this time though, and he knew he needed to take advantage of the lax security while he could.

Everything screamed in protest as he tried again, this time focusing more of his weight against his right arm rather than his injured left. He could still feel the pull of the stitches, but he breathed through it, finally managing to prop himself up in the bed.

He sat there for a long moment, listening and catching his breath. He was already exhausted, but that didn't matter. It couldn't matter when this could be the one chance he had to find Liz. Reddington was keeping them apart, likely to try to keep his secret just a little longer, but Tom wasn't willing to wait.

He sucked in as deep of a breath as he dared and pushed the covers back, freeing up his legs so he could swing them over the side of the bed. There was an instant pull that stopped him, and it took him a moment to piece together that he was still tethered to the equipment. The IV in his arm, the heart monitor attached to his finger, the tube resting against his nose to push oxygen through….he started with that. It was what was holding him halfway to the bed.

Tom balanced as best he could, one leg over the side of the bed and trying not to turn at an angle that would aggravate his injuries any more than necessary. It took a couple of clumsy tries, but eventually he pulled the clear tube free and tossed it against the pillow. He reached over as carefully as he could, one long finger finally pressing against the power button on the monitor, shutting it off to buy him some time at least as he unhooked the IV and shed unclipped the monitor.

Fully free, he tried his luck at standing. He balanced for half a second before he felt his knees threaten to give way and Tom braced himself against the bed. Okay. That seemed to do the trick.

It wasn't until he made it to the door of the room - taking much longer than he would have liked - that he realized why he hadn't already been shuffled into bed. Not only did it appear to be sometime in the middle of the night, but Reddington hadn't taken him to a hospital. Or, if he had, he certainly wasn't there now.

Tom's room was at the end of a short hall and he moved slowly down it, bracing himself as he did. There was a room across the way, not nearly as far as it felt, and he stopped at the door to catch his breath as the floor felt like it might tip out from under him. One breath in, out, and then repeat. After several long moments he felt himself steady a little more and he reached a trembling hand for the door handle and pushed against it.

The door swung open and he could hear the sound of a respirator pushing air into someone's lungs before he could muster the energy and the will to look inside. He blinked hard, eyes struggling to focus on Liz sleeping in the bed. No, not sleeping. That made it sound too peaceful. And you didn't have a tube shoved down your throat to help you breathe when you were sleeping. Unconscious. She was unconscious.

He swallowed hard, steeling himself for the steps between the door frame that he was latched onto and her bed. Finally, he pushed himself off of it, limping his way over, and barely made it to her bedside before one knee gave out underneath him. He leaned heavily against the bed, his fingers searching out hers.

It wasn't that he'd expected her to squeeze back, but the fact that her fingers remained limp as his curled around sapped what little strength he'd held onto and he sank down on the edge of the bed. He pulled her hand up to his chapped lips, pressing a kiss to it. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "This wasn't what… I'm so sorry, Lizzie."

She didn't answer him and he squeezed his eyes closed, exhaustion finally winning out as he curled up next to her on the narrow bed, never letting go of the hand in his.

* * *

He had gotten a call in the middle of the night to tell him that Tom had somehow slipped the alarms that should have sounded the moment he detached them and made it to Elizabeth's room. Reddington had expected the doctor or perhaps even Dembe to have moved him back to his own room, but when he did arrive at the facility he found Tom Keen still curled next to Elizabeth.

"Dr Lomay believed he would be more comfortable there until morning."

Reddington turned back to fix a frustrated look on Dembe. "Dr Lomay doesn't know what's at stake," he countered, his voice quiet. After a moment he loosed a long breath. "He won't give up."

"Raymond-"

"It has to be done." His gaze remained fixed on the sleeping, injured couple. "Lomay and Chen are at the top of their fields. They'll get him through."

"And if they don't? How much is this worth?"

"Everything," Reddington breathed and shook his head. "She can't know what he found. There'd be no stopping her. This guarantees that it won't matter. Get Andrei here. This can't wait."

* * *

He woke up in his own bed. Well, his own hospital bed. It would have been a relief to have woken up in his own bed in his own home with his wife next to him and their daughter in the next room over. He would have rolled over, wrapping an arm around Liz as she grumbled in her sleep about it being too early. Tom would have agreed as he pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades and let himself drift back to sleep for a little while longer. A late start to a Saturday morning that would turn into bacon and eggs for Liz and cinnamon pancakes for him and Agnes with this nightmare put behind them. No bones, no attack. Just them and their family and their life.

"Mr Keen, I need you to keep your eyes open for me."

Tom groaned loudly as the accented voice pulled him out of the half-dream and back to the nightmare of a reality. Definitely a hospital bed.

The owner of the voice leaned into his line of sight. "There you are, Mr Keen."

"Where's Liz?" His words felt heavy against his tongue and it took a considerable amount of effort to look up. He could feel the pressure of something against his forehead as he did, and he caught a glimpse of wires out of the corner of his eye. What the hell was going on?

"Do you know where you are?" the doctor - Tom could only assume he was a doctor - asked.

"He didn't tell me that."

"Who didn't?"

"Your boss. Reddington."

The doctor jotted something down on a pad of paper. "Do you remember what happened?"

A wave of pain hit, pulling a grunt from him as Tom tried to think through it. "We were attacked."

"Why?"

"They were after something."

"What were they after?"

"I don't know."

"Think hard, Mr Keen."

"Where's Liz? Where's my wife?"

"She's safe."

"She wouldn't wake up."

"Sir," a woman's voice sounded from Tom's left and the doctor leaned in to look past him towards a beeping noise that seemed to be speeding up with every breath he took.

Tom reached up, catching the man by the wrist with his right hand. "Please. My wife."

The doctor's lips quirked up at the corners, but it wasn't quite reassuring. More placating. "You'll be able to see her as soon as we're done here, that I promise you. But first, why were you attacked?"

Dark blue eyes slipped closed as he forced himself to think through the fog that always accompanied painkillers. The men in the house. The one that had killed Lena and Pete. He'd stabbed him before taking…

"Bones," Tom coughed out and he met the doctor's eyes, holding that gaze defiantly. "Tell Reddington it doesn't matter how many times he drags me out of her room, I'm not keeping his secret."

The doctor sighed. "Let's take it to the next level."

"Sir, his vitals -"

"We have our instructions."

Tom pulled his gaze around to see a nurse pushing dark liquid into his IV. His question was cut short as it flowed through and _burned_ as it hit his vein. He dragged a sharp, painful breath into his lungs, eyes wide, and the world pulsed before he was plunged back into darkness.

* * *

Reddington had lost track of how many times that he had read the same line on the same page of the book in his hands. He wasn't worried, of course. Not that he'd even admit to himself. Just… distracted. By everything. Elizabeth slept on with no change in her bed as Andrei worked to dig into Tom Keen's memories and find the right thread to pull in order to replace it. It could be done. That much had been proven by Krilov if nothing else.

A loud, shrill sound startled him from his thoughts and Reddington popped to his feet, the book more forgotten than it had been even a moment before. Dr Lomay nearly took him off his feet at the door leading to the hallway as she bolted past, circling into Tom's room and shouting at Andrei. What the hell did he give him?

Red's footsteps were heavy, echoing in his own ears with the voices fading to the background as he moved to get a better view of what was happening.

The room was in motion as Lomay shoved Andrei out of the way, checking Tom's IV. Lizzie's husband convulsed in the bed, the seizure causing his back to arch and his limbs to twitch violently. The doctor pushed a vial of liquid that Reddington didn't recognize into the IV and stepped back. She looked like she was barely breathing for one beat, then another. Finally Tom stilled, collapsing back against the bed limply, his head lulled away so that Reddington couldn't see if he had somehow managed to retain consciousness through the whole episode.

"Get rid of this," Lomay growled, motioning to the equipment already half pulled from Tom's head.

Andrei shot her an offended look. "We were within parameters."

"Don't bullshit me. You were desperate to make it work." She turned an accusing look on Red, the words clear if she never uttered them: _So were you_. Instead she pulled in a steading breath. "Call Dr Chen and get them out of here if you want to give him even a chance to live."

Reddington motioned and Andrei and his nurse scurried out. "Anything you need, Melissa."

"For you to let me do my job," she snapped and Red nodded as he watched her move around Tom in precise but hurried motions.

He couldn't admit it - he didn't dare - but in that moment he wondered if he'd just cost Elizabeth her husband's life.

* * *

**TBC**

**Next Time** : Dr Lomay assesses the damage done by the failed memory manipulation and ~~Tom~~ Jacob Phelps is not thrilled that no one will give him a straight answer about what happened to him.

**Notes** : This story has been a long time in the making. I came up with the idea in in April 2019, wrote about a chapter's worth, and then shelved it. And, honestly, I'm glad I did, because S7 cracked open a lot of the twists and turns I needed to really make this story work. So here we are. 

Buckle up, friends. It's going to be a wild ride. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Lomay assesses the damage done by the failed memory manipulation and Tom Jacob Phelps is not thrilled that no one will give him a straight answer about what happened to him.

It had been hours since Chen had arrived, Dembe not too far behind him. He'd left to check on Agnes who had been safely tucked away with his daughter and granddaughter. The little girl was fussy and agitated at being uprooted from her routine, but safe. It was more than could be said for her father. Dembe's silence said more than any vocalized judgement could have.

Or perhaps it was just the truth of the moment. Red had made a judgement call in which he didn't have expertise to make.  
"He's stubborn," Dembe said quietly, his first words in hours.

Reddington loosed a long breath. "I'm aware. That's how we landed in this mess."

"I mean that he will pull through. He's stubborn. He will not leave her."

Those dark eyes were fixed on him, wisdom beyond his years in them, and Red swallowed hard. "I hope you're right," he admitted very, very softly. "For her sake."

A knock came at the door and Dembe moved to open in. Dr Chen stood on the other side. The man looked tired. "We've stabilized him."

"Wonderful news. How soon can we -?"

Dembe swiveled, not bothering to hide his discomfort at the question. Chen was the one that answered. "I think you should see for yourself."

"He's awake then?"

Chen didn't answer, but motioned for Reddington to follow after him.

Lomay was still onsite and working with her patient. She had him following a light as Red and Dembe entered, his gaze struggling and his jaw tightly clenched. She looked over and frowned. "All the answers we promised," she said softly and started for the door, her voice quiet as she spoke to Reddington. "He's confused and agitated. Please don't make it worse."

"I'll do my best not to," Reddington promised and was left with a clear path to the bed.

Tom's dark blue eyes did their best to focus on him as he drew closer. There was something hard in them. Something he hadn't seen in many years now. Only the slightest bit of confusion managed to creep in just behind the walls. "You're Raymond Reddington."

The statement stopped Red in his tracks. "I am," he answered carefully. "Do you know where you are?"

The injured man was studying him intently as if he were looking for any sign of the answer that was expected. Anything to give him an edge.

He had no idea where he was, that much was clear.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Your doctor asked me the same thing."

"That's not an answer, Tom."

The confusion finally won out, breaking through that dangerous glare and Tom tilted his head slightly against his pillow, jaw setting in a small tell of irritation. Any other day Reddington would have been in his element with the balance of knowledge in his direction, but not now. There was something very wrong in what was unfolding, and Tom's slow, guarded response only made it worse.

"I don't know who that is."

"Tom Keen. That name doesn't ring any bells?"

"Should it?"

Reddington looked back to the door where the doctors lingered with Dembe, but his attention was pulled back around as Tom started trying to sit up in bed. He reached out, ready to guide him back down, and Tom's hand flashed out, catching him by the wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong for the obvious pain that he was in. "Where the hell am I?"

"Easy. It was the alias you gave when I hired you." A truth. And one that seemed to help ease some of the fight or flight instinct.

Tom eased back against the pillows again. "You hired me?"

"Yes."

"And then what? I can't remember."

"You were injured. My people are taking care of you."

The machine sounded an alert that the pain medication was being pushed. Tom was already fighting it. "McCready. Does he -?"

"Everything's been taken care of," Reddington assured him and he hated hearing the strain in his own voice. Tom didn't seem to notice, though. He was losing focus as the medication flooded his system. His eyelids drooped and the tenseness in his muscles eased as he was pulled back to sleep.

"He's lost time," Lomay said quietly from behind him, her voice tense. "How much, we can't be sure."

"Years." Before Elizabeth had met him. Before he'd become Tom Keen. This man - Jacob Phelps, he supposed - thought he belonged in a world where Bill McCready was still alive and hiring him out as his best operative. "Can it be reversed?"

"I don't know. This isn't my area." Lomay pulled in a breath. "We believe it's prudent to treat his injuries. Let him rebuild his strength. Eric and I will consult with Andrei and his people, but we don't believe it would be wise to allow them direct treatment at this time. They could easily do more harm than good."

"Understood," Reddington said quietly, his mind spinning. With effort, he shoved it down and turned a sharp look on Chen. "Fix this."

He didn't give the younger man a chance to respond before stalking out of the room.

* * *

His world was in fragments. Pieces of memories that felt like they were just out of grasp. A voice. A name. A pair of blue eyes that reminded him of the sky and the retreating laugh that left him cold when it was gone.

Everything hurt. He was in a hospital of some form or fashion and every time he opened his eyes they asked him a million questions. What day was it? He didn't know. What was his name? He had no idea which one they wanted. Age? Twenty-four. That one he had. That one they could gauge for themselves.

Or not. The one answer he gave them seemed to be what caused them the most pause.

"Let's try this," the lady doctor said, her voice irritatingly gentle. "What year is it?"

He squeezed his eyes closed, the throbbing just behind them intensifying. "Two-thousand…. Eight." Right? That sounded right.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"A list of really pointless questions," he snapped.

She jotted down a note in a file. "Okay. I'm going to say a few names and I want you to tell me if you know them. Can you do that for me?"

The longer this went on, the more suspicious he became. He had the vaguest memory of someone coming in and telling him he'd been injured on a job, but he couldn't recall who it was or if he'd even said how he'd been injured. He certainly hadn't been given a chance to reach out to Bud or call in an extraction. This wasn't how St Regis operated. He should be in his own medical facilities in Upstate New York, not wherever the hell he'd been dropped. None of this made any sense and he was tired of playing this woman's game on her terms. "How about this? I give you an answer, you give me one."

She considered that a moment before giving a brief nod. "I think we can manage that. First name -" she looked down at her file - "Elizabeth Keen."

"I don't know who that is. My question: full list of my injuries."

To her credit, she didn't hesitate as she flipped through her notes. "GSW to the left shoulder that someone dug out before we saw you. Three stab wounds to the left side, one that nicked your lung and was torn more by exertion. And, of course, memory loss. That's the reason we're going through these questions."

"Concussion?"

"No."

"Then how -?"

"It's my turn." He blinked at the tone. "Agnes Keen."

"I don't know any Keens. Happy? If it wasn't a blow to the head, how am I missing time?"

"That's complicated."

"Didn't realize there were rules to this."

"I'm not at liberty to answer that one. Next -"

"No."

"I'm just trying to help you."

"Then get me a phone."

"I can't do that."

"There's a lot you can't do, isn't there?" he snapped and was halfway on his elbows when the pain ripped through him and sent him tumbling back. Black spots danced across his vision.

"... Keen? Mr Keen, can you hear me?"

"Told you. I don't know any Keens," Jacob muttered as his eyes slipped closed again.

* * *

Best he could tell he'd been there at least a week. Maybe longer. He could feel at least some of his strength returning, but as it did he found that they were keeping him sedated when there wasn't someone in the room peppering him with questions. All that did was solidify his original suspicion that he was in unfriendly territory. They'd done this to him. Why was still up for grabs, but if he was going to put money on it he would bet that they were fishing for specific intel and burying the lead in the neverending line of questions every time he pried his eyes open. If they didn't get it - or even if they did - he wouldn't be useful to them much longer. He needed to get out.

The constant sedation was his biggest problem. Even when he was awake he was groggy, and even if he could manipulate the interrogation to keep it going long enough to clear his head he wasn't sure he was capable of fighting his way out. He could probably take the doctors, but he had no idea what was on the other side of that door. No, he had to outthink them. Good thing he'd always been good at that.

He took the latest round of questions as long as he could, fingers carefully groping for the IV that pushed the medication into his veins that put him under as the doctors left. More names, dates, questions. They were obsessed with these people: Elizabeth and Agnes. There were others that popped up a few times. They asked him if he'd ever worked for Raymond Reddington or if the name Berlin meant anything to him.

Jacob heard the telltale sound of the machine to the side pushing medication and he tightened his fingers around the tube under the sheet. "I take it we're done?"

Dr Cho offered a small smile as he stood. "You need rest."

"When you're done with me, what do you plan to do?"

"You're safe here. We're not going to hurt you."

Funny, he sounded like he almost believed that. Jacob forced his breathing to even out and his eyes to slip heavily closed. All the signs that he was being pulled under. He waited, listening to the retreating footsteps, and then he waited some more. Finally he let his eyes slide open carefully, peering out into the room from beneath dark lashes. He was alone. Good.

His injuries were far from healed and he felt them pull as he reached to remove the IV from his hand. He unhooked the equipment using all the tricks he'd learned as a teenager when he'd decided he was bored of the medical wing after an injury in the field. It remained silent as he made his way gingerly to the window, pulling at the heavy curtain there to get an idea where he was.

It was dark outside. Well that was a plus. The fact that he was on the second floor didn't help his escape though. Alright then. Hallway it was.

Jacob padded his way to the door, bare feet silent against the tile floor, and he supposed he should at least be grateful his captors had left him in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. He might want to find a pair of shoes before he made his way out to the street, though. That way he didn't draw too much attention.

The hallway was blessedly empty and he took off towards what looked like a stairwell. The sound of a respirator drew his attention to a partially closed door. He wasn't the only person they were keeping here. Interesting.

He pressed his fingers lightly against the door, letting it swing open a little more to see a woman in the bed. Jacob inched forward to get a better look. There was something about her, but he couldn't quite catch hold of what it was. Dark hair spilled out across the pillow, eyes closed, skin pale, and the respirator forced air into her lungs. His gaze traveled down to see a ring on her left hand. He didn't know he was reaching for the limp fingers until he touched them and he felt his breath catch.

And just like that the spell broke.

Jacob jerked his hand back, hissing in pain at the quick movement. He had to get out of this place. Nothing made sense here and if he didn't get out right then, they would probably decide he wasn't worth the effort to keep alive even if they hadn't gotten what they wanted from him. He didn't know this woman. She wasn't his problem. Right? Right. He forced himself to turn away and start for the door, back to his original goal: the stairs.

Everything was quiet as he entered the stairwell. He leaned against the wall for a moment, his energy spent quicker than it would have been if he were healthy. It didn't matter. The first step was getting out, then he could call for backup. Then he could -

The door at the bottom of the stairwell opened and slammed shut, the sound reverberating against the concrete and Jacob froze where he was. His dark gaze latched onto the equally surprised doctor that stood at the bottom of the stairs. He turned, ready to spring back in the direction he came as quietly as he could, but the sudden movement sent a shock of pain through him and he found himself back against the wall, knuckles white as they grasped the railing.

He must have blacked out for just a moment because the next thing he knew hands were on him and he found the doctor standing with him. Chen, he thought. He was pretty sure that was his name. The man looked worried as he tried to steady him.

"You shouldn't be out of bed. Just a moment. Let me get some help." His hands left Jacob's shoulder and dark blue eyes cracked open just enough to see the phone he was pulling out of his coat pocket. That was it. That's what he needed.

Jacob steeled himself, letting instincts honed by years of training drive him as he swung around. His right elbow connected with the doctor's jaw, catching him by surprise and slamming him back hard enough to knock him out. He eased him down against the steps, not wanting to draw more attention to his location, and snatched the phone. A quick press of his thumb against the reader opened it up so that he could adjust the settings so that it wouldn't require a password moving forward. He pocketed the phone and drew in a steadying breath. Okay. Now he just needed to get out.

Adrenaline helped to dull the pain in his left side and shoulder to get him down the rest of the stairs. He pushed the door open, emptying out into a hall. Left was clear, but a guard was making the rounds to the right. He instantly drew his gun, but that was confusion that flashed across his face. That was useful at least.

"You shouldn't be down here," the guard called out, lowering his gun without holstering it.

Jacob pressed a hand to his side and leaned heavily against the wall. "Listen, I got kinda turned around. I just…"

The guard moved forward, more at ease now and the weapon was no longer trained on Jacob. "It's alright. Let's get you upstairs. Dr Chen was on his way to see you. He can -"

His movements were quick. As soon as the guard touched him, ready to help him back up to his room, Jacob's hand flashed out and grabbed the gun. He turned it, firing three rapid shots into the other man, and watched him slump to the floor. He stood there for a long moment, his entire body trembling under the strain of the quickly dissipating adrenaline rush, and he winced as he pressed his empty hand against his side, blood already soaking through his shirt. Great. Just what he needed. He had to get out of there before anything else went wrong.

Jacob stumbled his way down to the hall and found a door leading out the side of the building and into an empty street. It was later than he'd realized, most people in bed, and he pushed himself along. He exchanged the gun for the less conspicuous phone in case anyone did happen to drive by. Bloody fingers clumsily dialed a number.

It rang once, twice, three times before finally connecting to the expected dead air on the other end.

"Bud. It's me. Something went wrong. I need an extraction."

There was a long pause before a voice that was definitely _not_ Bill McCready's spoke. " _Jacob_?"

"Gina? Where's Bud?"

" _What are you doing calling this number_?"

"I don't have time for this. Something happened… I don't know what. I've lost time and I -" He doubled over, loosing the grip he'd had against his side to catch himself as he half collapsed against the nearest solid object, leaving a trail of blood streaked against the vehicle. Great. Just great.

" _What do you mean you lost time? What the hell are you doing calling here_?"

"I don't remember," he managed. When had it gotten so hard to breathe? "I just… The job's blown. Whatever the job was. Listen, I need an extraction. Tell Bud -"

" _Where are you_?"

He pushed himself off the car and looked around. "I don't know. DC, looks like? I don't know."

" _I traced the call. I've got you. Find a place to lay low. I'll have someone at your location in ten minutes._ "

"Kay," he breathed out, stumbling towards an alley and sinking back against the building. He wasn't going to make it any further than this, but at least it was out of the general pathway if anyone decided on a late night stroll.

" _Jacob_?"

He blinked hard, trying to focus. "Yeah?"

" _Don't die_."

A rough chuckle escaped him. "Trying not to." Then everything went black.

* * *

**TBC**

**Next Time** : Red discovers that Tom is missing and tracks him down to St Regis while Tom looks for any answers he can find.

 **Notes** : Hello hello! It's Friday again. I hope everyone is staying safe and well!

Thank you for all the lovely reviews and responses! It's great to see names I've seen for years back in the review inbox as well as some new ones. You guys are fantastic! <3

This week has been really good for finding answers to some of the questions I hadn't quite sussed out for this story yet. I keep a longrunning set of notes with plotpoints and various other details for stories like this to help keep everything straight. One of the reasons I was so hesitant to start posting (even over 20K into it) was because I didn't have those answers, so it feels great to have found some of them along the way as things start falling into place with the writing. 

For those that don't follow me over on Tumblr I'm releasing a sneak peek every week in the form of AU gif sets of at least one scene in the upcoming chapter. They're a lot of fun to make. You can find them over at [takadasaiko.tumblr.com](https://takadasaiko.tumblr.com/) and just look up "Love Me Twice" in the search for my blog and you should be able to find them. Those are posting every Tuesday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red discovers that Tom is missing and tracks him down to St Regis while Tom looks for any answers he can find.

No one met him at the door. Not Benny, the guard who was always looking for his first chance to grab a morning smoke or Lomay who you could set a clock by the last weeks. Reddington risked a glance back at Dembe only to find the younger man brushing past him and taking the lead. It was clear something was off, even if he didn't have his gun drawn yet.

That changed for both of them as soon as they rounded into the hallway to see a figure laid out, white sheet covering him. They moved with a synchronicity that spoke of their years working together, Red clearing the rest of the hall and pressing the up button on the elevator at the other end before moving past to where Dembe had his cell phone pressed to his ear. "Dr Lomay isn't answering and Dr Chen's phone rolls straight to voicemail."

"Elizabeth," Reddington breathed, her name rolling off his tongue with no small amount of desperation in it. If she'd been saved only to lose her here, he didn't think he could bear it. Not again.

Dembe cleared the stairwell, Red following at his heels, and then to the second floor hallway once they reached it. It was there that any restraint dissipated and the Concierge of Crime tore past him with the single goal of reaching Elizabeth's room. The door stood slightly ajar, movement barely visible, and he swung into the room with his gun raised. Melissa Lomay let out a startled sound and dropped the bag of fluids she'd been replacing on Elizabeth's IV rack.

Reddington instantly lowered his weapon. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I've been a little busy," the doctor snapped, reaching to check the bag. Once she was convinced it was undamaged, she continued replacing the depleted one.

"What happened?"

She shot him a look, but answered. "Best I can tell Mr Keen finally had enough of the secrets."

"What?"

"He's gone. Daniel has a concussion from where Keen attacked him in the stairwell and Benny, as I'm sure you saw, is dead. His gun is missing."

"And Elizabeth?"

"Slept through it all."

Red finally loosed a breath, but turned a sharp glare on the doctor half a second later. "He was supposed to be sedated."

"He was. Steadily. Apparently he found a way around that on top of the typical limitations of someone with injuries like his. It was a move of a desperate man. We warned you that what you were attempting with Andrei was -"

"Yes, you've said as much," Reddington grumbled, waving her off. That was neither here nor there at this point. The key was finding Tom before he hurt himself further. Red had seen the blood stains against the wall like a man trying to keep himself on his feet as he stumbled towards the door. He just hadn't known it was Elizabeth's husband that had left them there.

"I have the footage," Dembe said from behind and Red turned. He hadn't even heard him leave.

He took the offered tablet and watched the four squares of recorded footage. Tom making his way down the hall from his room to Elizabeth's and then out again just a handful of moments later. The second box showed him exiting into the hallway below and the third box showing him stumbling into the street just outside of the building, a phone pressed to his ear. Chen's, Reddington suspected. It was likely in pieces now and impossible to trace. The last box showed a steady stream of the back alley, Tom never making it around that way.

"Get this footage to Glen. Have him trace Tom's path."

"Of course."

"If we don't find him soon, we won't find him at all."

* * *

He thought he remembered someone ushering him into a car. Someone greeting him by name, hands on him to guide him, and then stretches of nothing. He thought he might have woken up here and there, but it was all interwoven with shadows of faces he couldn't quite see and voices he couldn't quite hear. There was one that was a little louder, a little more clear, and she called his name even if it wasn't _Jacob_. Somehow he knew it was his name, but even she faded eventually.

By the time Jacob's eyes slid open again, the sound of medical equipment all around, the dreams were gone. He knew he'd had them, but they were lost to the fog of his mind. Everything was by the time he pried his eyes open again.

"Welcome back, Mr Phelps."

"Hank," Jacob croaked, his throat dry and scratchy as he looked up at a familiar face. Hank Rogers had been over St Regis' medical facilities since before even Jacob had arrived years before. The man had patched him up more times than he could remember and if his surroundings were anything to go by he'd done it yet again. "What happened?"

There was a moment of hesitation and a flash of uncertainty. "You called for… an extraction. Do you remember what happened?"

Jacob grimaced and forced himself to think through the pain medication. "I woke up in this building."

"A hospital?"

"Sort of. Not public. I think they told me I'd been working a job, but I can't remember. Everything's fuzzy." He turned blue eyes to meet a set of dark brown. "Was I working a job? Hell, Bud's gonna kill me. How bad did I botch it?"

Hank's bushy brows drew together and the corners of his lips dipped low in a frown. "Let's worry about getting you well before we worry about… that, shall we?"

The door behind him slid open and Jacob struggled to see who was making their way in.

"He needs to rest," Hank greeted the person and finally shifted enough for Jacob to see Gina Zanetakos.

"How is he?"

"Confused, just like you said," the doctor murmured very softly, but not so much that Jacob couldn't make the words out.

"I'm right here," he grumbled and Gina's gaze snapped to meet his.

"What happened?" Her tone was strange. Cautious. Like she was waiting for him to take the lead so she knew which direction to lean.

"I don't know."

"You said you lost time."

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"I don't know."

"There's a lot you don't know."

"Gina," Hank snapped softly and turned his attention back to Jacob. "What year is it?"

A memory flashed through the fog. "The doctors that were holding me kept asking me the same thing."

Gina crossed her arms across her chest, impatience written in every line of her pretty features. "Did you give them an answer or jerk them around too?"

"'08," Jacob growled, matching her level of irritation, but just like that hers vanished and was replaced with surprise.

"2008?"

"No. Nineteen. Of course two-thousand."

"Jacob, look at me," Hank instructed, but as Jacob did he didn't like the older man's expression. "It's 2017. December."

Even with the firm mattress of the bed beneath him, Jacob felt his world shift. "What?"

"Two-thousand-seventeen," Gina stressed. Hank shot her a warning look.

"No. No… that's not…"

"It's alright," Hank promised, his voice soothing. "We did a pretty thorough exam when you came in, but we'll get to the bottom of this." He reached over to one of the many machines off to the side and Jacob heard a familiar _woosh_. Great. He'd made it out, made it back to St Regis, but nothing had changed. No answers and medication. Apparently that was everyone's answer to everything, he thought bitterly as he slipped under again.

* * *

"You said there was no sign of head trauma," Gina growled as she blew through the door to her office. McCready's old office. The one she'd taken over after she'd put a bullet in his chest to save Jacob's life. Thankless bastard.

"We're still running tests," Rogers said, his tone holding a calculated level of patience. "Right now he needs rest. If he's staying, that is."

Gina turned and shot him an irritated look. "Find out what happened, how much time he's lost, and if he'll get it back." There was a stretch of silence and she could practically feel the disapproval rolling off of him even if the doctor kept his expression even. He would have made a fair operative if that had been the path he had chosen. He was also one of the only people left on the St Regis campus that survived her restructuring after she had taken McCready's place. He had earned it and he'd proven loyal, but he'd always been much more loyal to the individual operatives in his care than the institute on whole. "What?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Won't you anyway?"

A soft sound might have been a chuckle if not for the frown that had finally broken through. "I see what you're thinking."

"Do you now?"

"And I know how close you two were. I'm sure you've missed him -" she snorted at the statement and he shot her a pointed look - "even if you won't admit it. But Jacob made his choice, even if you and I are the only ones left here that remember it."

"A choice The Major put a price on his head for. Are you suggesting I finish it?"

"I'm suggesting you get word to his wife."

"She's a fed."

"She's his wife. Not a mark, not a job. A woman that, of all people, Jacob Phelps broke ranks for. She must be special."

Gina's gaze swept over him, taking every inch of his expression in. He was good. Careful. He didn't push on things unless he felt it down to his soul. On most days she found a strange sort of respect in that. Not today.

She leaned in, her words enunciated as she spoke. "I don't care."

"And if he remembers?"

"Find out if he will."

"And if he doesn't, what? You'll just keep him here?"

She shrugged, idly picking up a paperweight from her desk. "If he doesn't, he'll make us a lot of money just like he did before."

* * *

Glen Carter was one of the more obnoxious individuals that Red had ever come across. The man riled him up for sport, jerking him around with his pathological lies and wild excuses, but in the end he was still the most talented tracker that Reddington knew.

He had uncovered footage of a man that had parked a block down from the building that Red had been using to keep the Keens safely hidden away. The man had gotten out and moved out of the camera's line of sight, but when he returned he was supporting a familiar figure all the way to the passenger's side.

The camera had only caught one usable angle of their mystery man, Glen had argued, and that's why it had taken time. Even so, nearly two weeks after Tom had managed his messy escape - and Reddington had moved Elizabeth, not willing to risk underestimating him again - Glen had found the location of the man that had picked him up. Not Tom himself, but it was a start.

Brimley was sitting in a chair outside of a closed door when Reddington arrived, breathing deeply from his oxygen tank, and his focus on the task was absolute.

"Has he given you a location yet?"

Brimley took one more long breath before removing the mask from his nose and mouth. "Took some work, but training only takes ya so far. Hit just the right nerve and he sang like my Aunt Myrtle's yellow canary."

"And?" Red pressed, an uncomfortable feeling tightening his chest at the look he received.

"He's ready for you. Switch is on the right."

Reddington gave him a brief, terse nod before moving into the room. It was quiet inside - eerily so - and pitch black so that the light from outside the door flooded in like a tidal wave, leaving the hunched figure in the corner curling in on himself a little more. Reddington reached over without looking, and even he had to wince as the lights snapped on at top voltage.

Their man - Eric Sneider seemed to be the final consensus, though the man appeared to have his pick of names he chose from on a regular basis - yelped at the sudden illumination. It was a wonder. Teddy had had him five hours at the most. How he did it, Red would never know.

Nor did he care right then.

He moved towards the trembling man, his steps slow and deliberate, and he made sure that the legs of the metal chair scraped loudly across the concrete floor as he pulled it towards him and took a seat. "Mr Sneider. Do you know who I am?"

The man finally uncurled just a little from his ball of fear to turn wide, red-rimmed eyes on him. His jaw dropped a little. "You're Raymond Reddington," he managed, a sense of awe in his tone.

"Yes."

"What do you want with me?"

"Tom Keen."

"I… I don't know who that is."

Red tilted his head to the side, considering. No. He wouldn't, would he. "Jacob Phelps then."

Sneider flinched back. "I don't—"

"I would think long and hard before lying to me, Mr Sneider."

"I _can't_. She'll kill me if I talk. "

"And I'll kill you if you don't, though I'd say I pose the more immediate threat," Red said as he pulled his gun from the holster and placed it on his knee.

"He… called in an extraction."

"Who did he contact? Who sent you?"

"St Regis." The confession was small, whispered and trembling. Reddington sat for a long moment. It made sense. Tom had asked for a phone and wanted to contact the Major several times after the failed memory procedure. And why wouldn't he? His mind was trapped back in 2008. A time long before he'd left the organization. Long before he'd considered it an option.

"That's it. I swear," Sneider half sobbed and Reddington turned his nose up.

"You're going to put me in touch with the person that gave you the order to come for him."

He held the other man's gaze for a long moment before he received a slow nod of confirmation.

* * *

He was going stir crazy. After being drugged into a stupor and held hostage only to break out and make his way back, Hank had all but locked him in the medical ward and demanded bed rest. Jacob had complied, grumbling the whole way, and he certainly would never admit to feeling better for it. The pain had lessened, his strength was coming back in spurts, and even the knife wound in his side that he'd managed to reopen in his escape was finally starting to show real signs of healing. It was slow going - much slower than he was accustomed to - but Hank had reminded him that the body at thirty-three didn't bounce back quite as quickly as one did at twenty-three. Even if he didn't remember getting to those limits, he'd have to respect them if he was going to make a full recovery.

They still didn't know why he was missing time. Hank had put him through a gauntlet of tests and no head trauma was evident. The stab wounds and gunshot to the shoulder seemed to be the worst of it, but hardly explained anything. What was worse, Hank seemed hesitant to give him any details about what he was missing. Jobs taken, injuries dealt out. Jacob has scars from injuries he couldn't remember, and each time he tried to ask the old surgeon about it Hank sidestepped the answer.

That led him to where he was.

Bud's office door stood large and imposing. Operatives didn't just invite themselves over to it, or at least normal operatives. Jacob has never been normal and he'd never been good at waiting for answers. He wrapped his knuckles against the door hard.

There was a stretch of silence before shuffling and finally the door was opened by an irritated Gina from the other side. She stared at him, surprised, and Jacob was pretty sure he had at least one answer. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"What are you doing here? Rogers said you should—"

"Rest. Yeah. Been doing alot of that. You gonna let me in or leave me hanging in the hallway?"

Gina's lips twitched down but she stepped back, clearing the way for him to enter. The room was different. Same desk - damn thing was so large that it might have been more trouble than it was worth to move - but other than that there was nothing left of Bud. From the books to the type of liquor set up on the shelf. He'd been gone a while.

"How long?"

She knew what he was asking. "Best anyone can guess, a couple years."

"How?"

Gina shrugged, turning back to her desk and the files that were piled there. "We don't know. The body has never been found. I went with him for an op he wanted to oversee himself, but he never showed at the rendezvous. There was nothing after that."

"Bud wouldn't have gone down without a fight."

"One he must have lost. It was bound to happen. He had several close calls towards the end. Reddington, the Germans…" She was watching him now, almost like she expected it to jog a memory. Jacob has nothing and she turned back to her paperwork. "Bastard left me to clean everything up."

"Why didn't I help?"

"You do. You will. You've always belonged in the field."

"So do you."

"I've done alright here." She paused, that honey brown gaze sweeping him up and down. "Sit."

"That obvious?" Jacob chuckled, sliding into one of the plusher seats in the room. The walk over to her office had tired him out more than he cared to admit. "I need some answers, Gina."

"I don't know what happened to your memories."

"But you know what job I was working. Maybe if I could retrace my steps I could—"

"Why?"

Jacob blinked hard. "Because I've lost ten years."

"And you may never get them back. Best we can hope for is to get you back to work - back to normal - and who knows? Maybe something will click back into place."

There was something in her tone, in the way she brushed it off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Gina had always barreled ahead. She preferred it to looking back and it was one of the reasons they'd worked so well together for so many years, but it was all those years that he'd known her that made him think something was off.

She stood, drawing his attention, and he knew the look she was wearing. That little half smile and the way she held his gaze. She leaned down, hands on either armrest so that she pinned him into his spot in the chair, and she pressed her lips against his. Like her words, there was something strange about the kiss, but his need to feel _something_ that was familiar won out and he reached up to pull her in deeper. He felt her smile into the kiss, settling down into his lap with one arm shaking behind him.

A loud, sharp ringtone shattered the moment and she let out a frustrated growl as she stood back to her feet. "I have to get that. There's an op in Hong Kong that we need to go well."

"You owe me some stories," Jacob said, his voice rough.

"As soon as I finish with this."

It was a dismissal if he had ever heard one, but as Jacob eased himself out of the chair and towards the door, he focused on the fact that he'd received at least one answer. The others would come… or they wouldn't. At least he'd made it home.

* * *

The phone rang again and again, leaving Reddington to shoot his terrified hostage an exasperated look. If he'd been foolish enough to give him the wrong number, no one would be happy by the end of this.

Then it connected, but no one said a word. Well, she had learned her craft from Bill McCready, and the man had always been a fan of having more information than he gave away. Ah well. Reddington had found confidence often made up for what he lacked in concrete information.

"Gina. Raymond Reddington. I hear you found someone I'm looking for."

There was another bout of silence before a snort that might have been a laugh. "So that's where Sneider went."

"It is."

He could almost hear her lean back against some oversized desk and do everything she could to show a man that couldn't see her just how unruffled she really was. "What do you want?"

"A truce."

"I'm not at war with you."

"No, but your former employer was deeply in my debt. So often when a parent dies the children are saddled with all the promises that they couldn't fulfill."

"I'm doing just fine."

"So I hear. Old and new ops alike flourishing and intel coming in from all over the world, I'd imagine, but you and I both know that you will _make_ the operative of your choosing if I hire them."

"And in return you want Jacob?" she chuckled. "The highest earning operative that this organization has ever had… for what? One job? Anyone can see it's a bad business deal."

Red felt the small muscles in his cheek twitch with irritation. "You may try to make this about the money, Gina, but we are both well aware that it's not. It's the same reason that you took the fall for him in the Angel Station assassination, the same reason you hired him on when he came running to you after Bill put out a burn notice, and the same reason you put a bullet in McCready just a few weeks later: you can't let him go."

"He came back."

"Because he can't remember what he has here."

"And you think you can fix that? Give your pet fed her precious Tom Keen back?"

"I have the resources. The connections to give him a chance. If you truly care for him, Gina, you'll give me the chance to try."

There was a long, tense moment before: "He's made his choice."

And that was it. The line went dead and Reddington was left holding the phone, the truth oppressively heavy in the air around him. Tom was gone. Even with all of his resources, he needed Gina's help now that the younger man was hidden behind St Regis' wall of protection and she had made it clear that he wouldn't get that help.

"What are you going to tell Elizabeth when she wakes up?" Dembe asked softly from behind as Reddington snapped the flip phone shut with more force than was warranted.

"The truth," he breathed after a moment. "Her husband is dead."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes:** And so it's set. We're about to jump ahead to present day (aka, just after the S7 finale) in the next chapter and things are about to start ramping up. I hope you guys are still enjoying the story. Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know :D

 **Next Time** : An op pits Jacob against an old enemy, but when a client will only take the best, Gina volunteers him for the job.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An op pits Jacob against an old enemy, but when a client will only take the best, Gina volunteers him for the job.

**Chapter Four**

_April 2020_

The squeal of the train's breaks sounded their approach to the platform as a prim voice announced their imminent arrival and warned commuters to _mind the gap_. Jacob Phelps adjusted a leather messenger bag on his shoulder, the opposite arm occupied by a pretty young woman with dyed blonde hair and striking green eyes. "Don't be nervous," she said, her tone so light it was almost teasing. "Daddy's going to love you."

Jacob let a small, hesitant smile quirk his lips. "I'm not nervous."

"You're such a bad liar," she laughed as the train pulled up to the platform and the doors opened.

"I am," Jacob lied, risking a glance at his mark. Emily Atwood, thirty-years-old and the only child of the aging CEO of a British conglomerate that he'd been hired to steal data from. It had taken nearly a month of groundwork, but only a couple of weeks once he'd actually made contact with her. She thought he was Jack Tallert, an accountant that had recently been transferred to his firm's London branch.

She was an easy enough mark. Trusting and head over heels for the man she thought he was. It would have been enough to almost make him feel guilty if he ever got invested enough to feel much at all on an op. He let the part he was playing take over and natural charisma and training did their equal parts to get him where he needed to go. He'd always been good at it, even before St Regis, but Bud had helped him hone a skillset that had put him at the top of his class. Thankfully a decade's worth of missing memories hadn't dampened that too much, even if it had left him with a desperate need to fill in his gaps of knowledge that anyone around him would know.

Emily tugged him forward from the train and they started up towards the street above. She chattered away about their dinner plans and if they should see a movie that weekend. Or a play. She'd prefer a play. They had a lovely cast for…

Jacob nodded at all the right moments, picking up on key words but otherwise focused on the plan as they stepped out into the cool spring afternoon. The client that had hired him needed a set of plans that were being tightly guarded by the company's security. No one under the fortieth floor even knew that the product was on the horizon, and no one under the fiftieth had access to the details mapped out to make it happen. Emily's father would have them on his computer, certainly, but that was risky. Daniel Atwood's personal assistant should have them too. She had been Jacob's original in for direct access, but it didn't take a lot of research to find out that he was _not_ her type. She would be out to lunch - a very nice lunch with her girlfriend that Jacob has pulled a discrete favour to make happen - so no one would be there to watch her computer. His cell phone was already set to connect with her laptop from the office next to hers, so all he had to do was keep the conversation going while the tech did the heavy lifting. If he played his cards right he'd be on a flight Stateside in just a few hours.

"What do you think?"

The words pulled him out of his thoughts and Jacob blinked hard. "That's a…. good idea?" he tried.

Emily smiled sweetly at him and reached forward, adjusting the collar on his overcoat. "I promise it's going to be just fine. Don't believe everything you hear about him on the telly."

"I've got you with me. What could go wrong?"

"That's the spirit." She tipped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before letting her hand slide down into his and tugging him into the building after her.

* * *

McCready had always had a strict radio silence rule. No contact until the op was finished. If you broke that rule, it better be mission critical or he'd burn you faster than you could start stuttering out your excuse.

The reasoning behind the rule had been proven time and again over the years, and it was one that Gina hadn't seen any benefit in changing during her four years that she had been leading St Regis now. Funny, even after she'd proven she wasn't someone to be trifled with, there was always the one idiot that thought he was different. That thought he could push her around. That's what brought her to moments like this one.

April in New York City could bring snow or sun, but that particular Thursday morning it was somewhere in between. She sat at a table in Union Square Park, tablet in hand. Jacob would have teased her for it, saying that if she were a spy worth her salt it would have been a newspaper. She couldn't fully blame him. It wasn't his fault he was a decade behind the times, not that he would have made the choice if he wasn't. He'd always been a fan of old spy tropes.

A scream for a doctor drew Gina's attention and she looked up to see what the crowd around her saw: a congressman home from DC's walk in the park with his wife turned dangerous as he clutched at his chest, hunched over to the point that he was melting towards the ground. She watched as people circled around, finally closing off her view. People were on their phones. Some were calling for help, others hoping for their five seconds of fame once they uploaded the video to whatever platform they thought would get the most views or get snatched up by one of the 24-hour news networks to play again and again until something more interesting came along. The congressman would never make it to the hospital, though. That's what he got for breaking protocol.

She put her tablet to sleep and leaned down to fit it back into her bag, ready to make her exit. When she straightened, though, she wasn't alone at her table. A woman had claimed the seat across from her, utterly unphased by the drama taking place a few yards away, and her icy blue stare was fixed on Gina.

The woman was thin, red hair fighting the grey that should have stolen the colour at this point in life, and well dressed. She tilted her head a little to the side, studying Gina carefully. "You don't look bothered."

"Neither do you," Gina answered, slipping easily into a New York accent.

A very small smile tilted the corners of the newcomer's lips, amused, but her gaze remained sharp. "Your accent's good."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do. Let's not waste time."

Gina felt a nudge against her boot under the table and she risked a glance down to see that the woman had pushed a backpack towards her. "They don't like unattended bags here. Makes people nervous."

"I'd say you better check it out then."

She was playing a game, that much was obvious, but something in Gina could respect that. It wasn't just anyone that could sneak up on her, especially on high alert. This woman had been in the game, even if she wasn't currently. She knew what she would find in the bag even before reaching under the table for it. Her fingers ghosted along the stacked bills and she let her own lips quirk upward, her accent slipping back to her own. "Are you trying to propension me?"

"Absolutely. I want your best man for a job."

"I don't know you."

"You don't know most of your clients. That's why you vet people." The woman held a card between two fingers and Gina read the name Brigitte Tremblay in scrawled text. "Take a look - deep as you want - and give me a call."

"What's the job?"

"Protection. That's all I say until we have a contract in place. Do your due diligence and give me a call at the number on the other side of the card. I'll get you the qualifications I'm looking for so that you can choose your best operative."

Sirens sounded and Gina risked a look on instinct. When she turned back, Brigitte Tremblay was gone, her card and bag of money the only sign she'd ever been there at all.

* * *

It was exhausting playing the boyfriend sometimes. Bud had loved putting him in those roles. He'd said Jacob was born for them. Gina was less interested, but this job had needed a skilled operative that could manipulate many moving parts and make sure that it all came together quickly. Two months was their limit. Jacob was managing it in less, even if he would be due a bonus for having to deal with the nonstop droll of suckups that followed Emily Atwood around hoping to get a good mentioned to her dear ol' daddy. She wasn't bad, but the people that surrounded her took every ounce of skill he had to smile at rather than snap their necks. With the way things were going, he'd be lucky if they made it up to her father's floor by next week.

"I'm so sorry, Alistair," Emily said, the grip she took on his hand pulling Jacob out of the stupor that Alistair's story had put him into, "but Jack and I were supposed to meet Daddy twenty minutes ago. Do say hello to Martha for me."

Jacob offered a small grimace that was supposed to be a smile as Emily pulled him away and towards the elevators. Once the doors were closed she sank back against the far wall. "They're exhausting."

"Least I'm not alone in that," he chuckled.

The lift wouldn't budge an inch until she swiped her badge, entered a code, and pressed her thumb against a reader to take them all the way to the top. Jacob saw the small signs of worry and reached out, his touch against her arm soothing. "Hey. Don't worry about them."

"It's hard not to. They're vultures. Everyone wants something from him. From us. It's hard to know what's real."

Jacob offered a reassuring smile and shoved that irritating tickle in the back of his mind away. It had been with him for the last couple of years. Since the op that stole his memories. He didn't know what it meant or why it happened, but it cropped up at the most inconvenient of times.

The elevator dinged and emptied them into the hallway. Emily led them around the corner and towards the CEOs suite at the end. The office next to it - Atwood's personal assistant's office - was already dark, meaning she was likely gone for lunch. Perfect. Jacob waited until Emily had fully passed the empty office before casually slipping his hands into his pockets, deft finger working to set his phone to send the signal. He caught the light from the computer waking up out of his peripheral, no one the wiser of it. The only thing he had to do now was keep the conversation going until the files had transferred and he could be Stateside again in under twenty-four hours.

Emily tapped on the frosted glass door as she pushed it open. "Sorry we're late. We...oh."

Jacob followed up behind her to see what had stopped her. Daniel Atwood stood tall and as imposing as he appeared in press releases, but he wasn't alone. With him was a smaller man. Persian. Asal Younes. Not that that would be the name he would have given Atwood. It looked like St Regis wasn't the only one after the intel.

He hadn't seen the man in years, but they had certainly left an impression on each other. Younes had gotten an upper hand on him and managed to leave Jacob with a broken collarbone and cracked ribs, but Jacob had returned the favour with a bullet lodged in the other man's chest and a second to the gut. As far as he knew they hadn't seen each other since, but grudges like theirs didn't dissipate with time. They festered.

"Sorry, love. This will only take a moment," Atwood said and turned back to his conversation.

"Alex Sharif," Emily said very quietly. "He handles Daddy's security."

Well that was interesting. Either Younes has found an in through security- a risky play - or he'd given a cover name to Atwood when he hired him to protect the intel, which didn't make sense. Either way, there was no question he'd been recognized, only how it played out.

He stood frozen in his place, mentally calculating every exit available to him, when he felt Emily's hand slip into his. "Let's wait outside."

She led him out and nodded as he made an excuse to slip off into the restroom to check the status bar on the phone. At ninety percent completion, this might just work. Whatever Gina was paying her new tech guru, it wasn't enough.

The door to the restroom opened and Younes' lips quirked up into a dangerous smile, gun already in hand. "I had heard a rumour that you'd gotten out of the game, either by choice or by force, but here you are. Hands on the counter."

"You've got it wrong."

Younes snorted and motioned until Jacob turned and placed his hands facedown on the counter as instructed. "Not even you can talk your way out of this. What's this?" He pulled the phone out of Jacob's pocket.

"Just downloading some tunes," he answered flippantly.

"Corporate espionage is a crime, my friend."

"So's trafficking, murder, and a half dozen other things you specialize in, so what's your point?" He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw his moment. Jacob kicked out, heel of his boot connecting with Younes' knee with a sickening crack, and he spun to go for the gun. He caught the other man's wrist in time to throw the shot from it wide and shoved Younes back hard against the wall. He dropped the gun as expected, but then slammed his head forward to send Jacob reeling back. Definitely _not_ expected.

Jacob staggered, struggling to blink through black spots that were dancing in front of his vision, and pulled himself around in time to block the next blow. Arms up, a fist collided with his forearm rather than his face and he swung around with his elbow to clock Younes in the temple. The other man crumpled hard and Jacob grabbed the gun from the floor and stuffed it in the back band of his slacks.

A couple of curious people were already at the bathroom door as he stepped out, the commotion gaining their attention. Jacob motioned behind him. "Two guys just went at it in there. Someone should call security."

He pulled his phone out, making a beeline for the elevator and hoped beyond hope that he had what he needed. His lips quirked up at the corner at the sight of a completed status bar and he slammed the heel of his hand into the down button for the elevator. It didn't immediately open for him and he risked a look up to see some asshole had taken it down to the ground floor.

The bathroom door slammed open behind him and he turned, finding Younes stumbling his way out. There was no way that the elevator would make it in time and if they had it out in front of all of these people, someone was bound to snag a photo for identification. The stairwell it was.

Jacob took the two flights up to the roof rather than the fifty-some-odd flights down. At least there wouldn't be cameras up there.

He burst through the door to the roof, and dialed a number. "It's Phelps. I have the intel. Have the plane waiting at Luton Airport. I'll be coming in hot." He reached for the gun and pressed his back against the brick wall of the outer stairwell, eyes squeezed closed and he waited.

The door opened and he leapt into action. He swung around, but Younes was ready for him. He knocked the shot wide just as Jacob had done before, but Jacob used the momentum to swing him around. The two men slammed hard to the gravel roof, rolling and punching and fighting. "You really don't let things go, do you?" Jacob growled, from his place pinning the other man down.

Younes slammed his knee into Jacob's left side and threw him off. He landed hard enough that it took a half second longer than it should have for him to regain his bearings. Younes was on him when he did and he kicked up, catching him in the middle and vaulting him over.

He heard the startled yelp before his mind registered just how close to the edge they were. Jacob rolled to his stomach and pushed himself up, feeling the damaged muscles in his left side pull painfully as he shuffled his way to the edge of the roof where Younes was hanging by his fingertips. He peered over and tilted his head curiously. "Just not your day, is it?"

"You son of a bitch."

Jacob snorted and turned. "Always sucks to see you, Younes," he called over his shoulder and heard another yelp as Younes finally lost his grip.

* * *

He hadn't slept on the flight. Between verifying that the data made it to the intended recipient and coordinating with the cleaning crew to wipe all physical traces that he'd ever come into contact with the Atwoods, there hadn't been time. He'd just put his phone down to slouch deeply in the comfortable seat when he felt the rumble of the gears coming down and the pilot reminded him that they'd be landing soon. He must have missed the first announcement.

Both landing on the private airstrip and the drive back to the St Regis compound were a blur as exhaustion started to really set in. He needed a shower and maybe a very long nap. Food could wait.

Hot water poured over knotted muscles. Jacob leaned forward, palm pressed against the shower wall to keep him on his feet as watched as red-tinged water circled down to the drain, rinsing the remaining blood from his skin and hair that he hadn't been able to scrub off from his fight with Younes.

The shower door opened behind him and Jacob nearly lost his footing as he turned. Gina gave him a playful, dangerous smile as she barred the door. "Hello, handsome. How was London?"

"Successful. The data's been transferred and will be released as soon as the funds are."

"Just what I want to hear."

Her gaze traveled him up and down and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "You planning on joining me?" There was always the crash at the end of an op. It had never been something he'd dealt with particularly well, but the last couple years had proven even more difficult. He woke up at all hours with whatever he was dreaming about - or remembering- just out of reach and the strangest sensation that something wasn't quite right. The job usually helped distract him. Sex wasn't bad either.

Gina frowned. "As much as it pains me to say, you don't have time."

"I just got back from a two month job. I think I've got time," he countered, but her look said it all. Okay. That was a quicker turnaround than normal. "Guess I don't, huh?"

"Everything we have for you is in the file on your bed. Your meeting with Brigitte Tremblay in the City at eight. I'd wear more than that."

"What's the job?"

"Don't know. She said she'd only tell our best."

Gina turned to leave and Jacob pulled in a breath. He was going to need a cup of coffee.

* * *

Jacob had always liked New York City. Violent homes as a child had taught him to read situations to survive, but as a teenager on the streets he'd sharpened those skills. New York had been a training ground in watching a wide range of people and mimicking every inch of their visible personalities. By the time Bud had picked him up by fourteen he was well on his way to fitting comfortably into any other skin but his own. Now, years later, he'd managed to turn it into a lucrative career.

The file Gina had given him was thin with only the name of the client - Brigitte Tremblay - along with the brief background run on her and her list of requirements. She had deep enough pockets to dictate terms, from the sound of it.

Brigitte Tremblay sat alone at a table just outside of a bakery, red hair peeking out from under a hat and over the scarf around her neck. She was a striking woman in her late 50's, her sharp blue gaze discreetly watching every person that passed by. She was good. A professional of some form or fashion, which left Jacob curious why she'd decided to hire out. There was only one way to find out.

"Ms Tremblay," he greeted as he circled around, but nothing about her reaction signaled that he had startled her. Just the opposite, her thin lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners as if she'd won a bet Jacob wasn't privy to.

"Brigitte, please," she answered and motioned to the chair across from her. The file Gina had given him indicated that she did business in Canada, but there were hints of other locations in her accent. "You must be the top operative I was promised."

"From the little information you were willing to provide, yeah," he answered as he took the seat.

Her smile didn't fade as she studied him. Those piercing blue eyes lingered on him long enough that even Jacob felt the impulse to squirm under the observation. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"The best, like I told your boss." She leaned down and pulled a file from her oversized purse at her feet. It was thicker than hers, but she didn't hand it over immediately. Instead she held it up as if it were a prize to be earned. "I expect full confidentiality in this operation. Once you take the job you will speak to no one about me, about what's in this file, or anything connected to it. Not even your boss, do you understand me?"

"I got it."

She held his gaze. "Do you? I don't accept failure."

Jacob held that intense gaze without budging. "There's a reason my boss sent me rather than any number of operatives. I get the job done. No matter what. Your secrets are part of that job."

There was a beat of silence between them as Brigitte seemed to consider what he'd said. There was a shift, so small that Jacob almost missed it, before she said, "I'm glad we understand each other," and handed over the file.

Jacob opened it to find a photo of a young woman staring up at him. "So what do you need from Elizabeth Keen?" he asked, the name striking an almost-memory as it left his tongue. A hospital bed, everything around him blurred, and a denial. He didn't know any _Keens_.

"Are you alright?"

Jacob blinked hard, finding Brigitte staring at him. He mentally shook it off. "Sorry. Jet lagged. You were saying?"

"I was saying I want her protected."

"Protected? Why? From who?" He flipped through the notes. "She's a fed."

"Yes she is."

"So what's the connection?"

"She has something of mine. Until I'm ready to retrieve it, I need her out of harm's way. You'll find a number of potential threats I've already uncovered. My guess is there are more."

Jacob flipped through the dossier. The files contained notes about a task force she was a part of, outstanding cases that might pose a threat, and one name that caught his eye. He looked up at his new employer. "Her CI…"

"I'd suggest you stay off his radar. No one should see you. You'll be her shadow. You'll report any new or evolving threats to me unless they put her in immediate danger. I've rented an apartment for you to work out of under the name Thomas Henderson."

"I develop my own covers."

"Not this time." She tilted her head a little. "You do look like a Tom," she mused and stood. "The details for your cover are in the back of that file and this-" she reached for her bag, pulling a burner phone from it - "is for you to contact me. Remember, Tom, she's not to see you."

"That won't be a problem."

"It better not be. Good luck."

Jacob watched as she walked away, a strange and uneasy feeling settling over him as he turned his attention back to the file in hand, Special Agent Elizabeth Keen staring up at him.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Bonus points to anyone that recognizes the name Younes from canon. Hint: Tom mentions the name a whopping one time with another name as someone that might be after him. If you guess you will earn the author's eternal entertainment and virtual cookies.

Also, for those that have been worried about Gina being an issue.... please know this is short-lived and only because Gina's taking advantage of the situation. Deep breath, my friends. The Keens will actually cross paths quicker in this story than the last Tom Lives! AU that I wrote.

 **Next Time** : Liz works with Katarina, Red gives the Task Force a new Blacklister, and Jacob tries to figure out who Maddie Tolliver is and what her connection might be to Elizabeth Keen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz works with Katarina, Red gives the Task Force a new Blacklister, and Jacob tries to figure out who Maddie Tolliver is and what her connection might be to Elizabeth Keen.

**Chapter Five**

"So," she mused, reaching for and flipping through another file, "the Sikorsky Archive is a blackmail file put together on powerful people."

She sat surrounded by research that fanned out from her in every direction. Names, dates, and faces stared up and Elizabeth Keen stared back at them, working her way through any connection she could find. It had been a little over a week since Katarina had won her loyalty and helped pull her out of what had felt like a never ending tug-of-war game between her mother and Reddington, both sides violently opposed to each other…. until they weren't. Katarina had proved that, unlike Reddington, she could set the war aside for Liz. She'd helped to save Reddington's life even after Reddington had refused to help save hers and had chosen to tell Liz the truth. There were no half-truths and or hidden agendas between them. What Katarina knew, Liz knew, and it felt like a breath of fresh air for the first time in seven years. She could get used to this.

"One that those that bought into the Townsend Directive are willing to kill me for, yes," Katarina answered from her own place at the desk she had set up in the small hotel room.

"And these people….?"

"The ones I've uncovered that have bought in."

"They're the ones being blackmailed?"

A soft sound drew Liz's attention and her mother looked tired. Years of running, years of looking over her shoulder, she couldn't blame her. Especially since it was Ressler's and her own questions that had shone a light on the possibility of her being alive. "Perhaps. I don't believe the list is complete yet or, perhaps, even if those are the end buyers."

"Fronts?" Liz confirmed and flipped the page to find a particularly gruesome image. "It could make sense why we haven't found a connection yet. My team—"

"Is beholden to Reddington. You cannot tell them about this. Elizabeth." She waited until Liz looked up, meeting those steely blue eyes of hers. "You can not tell them."

"I know." Her phone buzzed and she reached for it. _Nick's Pizza_ flashed across the caller ID. "Speak of the devil."

"Your team?"

Liz blinked, confused for a moment by the association the other woman drew, but brushed it off. "Reddington." Liz waited until Katarina nodded her acknowledgement before she tapped the accept button. "How are you feeling?"

" _Fit as a fiddle_ ," came the cheery response from the other end of the line. " _Amazing what rest and adjustments in medication can do_."

"Any chance you'll tell me why you need the medication in the first place?" Liz asked, unfolding herself from the hotel room floor and standing. She looked down at her watch. She'd need to leave for the office soon.

" _There are more pressing matters. How soon can you make it to Franklin Square? There's a lovely little bakery down here with exquisite passion fruit croissants. They are simply to die for_."

Liz quirked an eyebrow, shooting Katarina a long-suffering look even though she couldn't hear the conversation on the other end. "Unless there's more than fancy croissants, it's going to have to wait."

" _The croissants are a bonus. I have a new Blacklister for you_."

That was interesting. "Really? I thought you were on bed rest. Or is that why you're giving the case to us? Having us do all your legwork to track down my mother?"

" _Not everything is so devious, Elizabeth. Our deal includes me providing Blacklisters and that's exactly what I'm doing._ "

He wasn't going to give anything else up over the phone, that much was obvious. Liz loosed a long breath. "I'll be there in twenty."

" _Splendid! We'll save you a croissant._ "

The line went dead and Liz shoved it in her pocket before reaching for her purse.

"Leaving so soon?" Katarina asked, though it was hardly strange. Since she wanted Liz to keep their alliance to herself their meetings had to be short. A quick drop in after sending Agnes off to school or a brief chat in the car. They were making it work.

"Reddington has a Blacklister for us."

"And you think it has to do with finding me?"

Liz grabbed her purse. "He's always got an agenda, and I won't know if this one has to do with you until I talk with him. I'll let you know."

She started past, but Katarina's hand snapped out and caught her by the wrist. The hold was firm but gentle. "This will end, Elizabeth," she promised. "When we find who really has the archive and prove to the people hunting me that I didn't take it, this will all be over."

Liz tried for a smile. "I know."

She slipped carefully and silently out of the room, down the hall, and to the back stairs that would let her out into the alley behind the building. As Liz stepped out into the sun, she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. She turned, carefully and discreetly, but found no one. No familiar faces, no cars with people loitering in them. Nothing that should have sparked the feeling other than a healthy sense of paranoia that has clung to her the last several weeks. She felt like she was always being watched these days. For her safety. That was the running excuse. It was wearing a little thin.

She brushed it off as best as she could as she slipped into her car. The first step was to meet with Reddington and see exactly what wild goose chase he was about to send them on, then she could deal with whatever tail her mother had stuck her with.

* * *

The deeper a client's pockets, the more secretive they tended to be. That had been Jacob's experience, and even though Brigitte Tremblay had provided a wealth of information on Agent Keen to get started with, there had been more than one hole to fill. Very little on family outside of her daughter and no real details on certain connections. Raymond Reddington was listed as her CI, and while Jacob couldn't say he knew the man, he did know enough about him to confidently say he wouldn't have turned snitch for just anyone. There was a connection to Keen or someone else on the team, but if his research the last couple of weeks had shown him anything, he would have put his money on Keen.

Then there was Maddie Tolliver. A woman that didn't seem to belong in the dossier at first glance, but the more Jacob dug the more things didn't add up. The name appeared to be an alias - a burned one at that - with no obvious ties to Keen. None until trailing the fed led him to a hotel with Maddie Tolliver - under yet a different name - inside. He didn't have eyes or ears on the room itself, but he needed to get them.

One thing deep pocket clients could afford to provide was support. Sometimes Jacob brought his own in the form of a new graduate or a promising student that needed field experience, but Brigitte had insisted she provide her own people. They were alright. Not nearly as intuitive as a St Regis operative, but that's what he'd been hired for. So far they'd proven capable of following Keen when he couldn't and she hadn't seemed to notice. One had given him the room number and caught a glimpse of Tolliver as Keen had entered the room, but Jacob wouldn't dare send him in. He didn't trust them that far.

He set the low level tail to follow her while he made his way from the roof of the building he'd been perched on and down to the street level, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket as he rounded his way into the back alley to find a growing crowd of workers taking their smoke break not too far from the back exit. "Anybody got a light?" was all it took and he chatted with them like he belonged, a subtle hint to being new on the job dropped here and there, and by the time everyone was finished no one blinked twice that he followed them in.

Jacob shrugged his own jacket off to replace it with a uniform jacket that he'd snatched before working his way around to the front desk. He didn't quite make it there before he caught a break he hadn't expected: the elevator dinged, opening to reveal Tolliver and a bodyguard exiting. Jacob redirected and brushed past her, taking the limited opportunity and she didn't offer him a second glance.

The doors to the elevator slid closed and rocketed him up to the tenth floor. It was time to figure out exactly what this Maddie Tolliver's connection was to Elizabeth Keen.

* * *

She'd caught sight of her tail finally, but it wasn't one that Katarina typically used. He was young and thought he was being more discrete than he was, but she'd seen him in the hallway of the hotel when she'd left. It would have been one hell of a coincidence that he decided to go for a morning stroll in the same park that Reddington and she walked through as he divulged the details he knew about the case he was handing her.

He called the Blacklister _The Collector_. A secret keeper of sorts, and Liz perked at the phrasing. He'd called her mother a secret keeper once, but when she pointed that out Reddington had brushed it off immediately. Instead he focused in on The Collector himself.

"Reddington believes he got his start in the Cold War in the intelligence community. He targets individuals with significant secrets and uses those secrets to gain one favour and a lead on another secret. Sometimes he keeps the intel for years before exploiting it," Liz explained to her gathered team and as she spoke. "Reddington says that seemingly autonomous decisions - a Congresswoman stepping down right as her bill comes up for a vote, a businessman testifying against his corrupt business partner a day before their big product was set to launch, or a judge recusing himself from a high profile case - are all the work of this Collector using something that they've done or something that they've been apart of in secret against them."

"He's a blackmailer," Ressler said, his voice low and tight.

"Essentially, and Reddington says that for every public incident, there are at least three that never see the light of day."

Park shifted in her place. "Does he have a lead on who the new target is?"

"He believes that the Collector's next target is Bruno Krause, a German attache." Liz waited until Aram brought the little intel that they had up on the screen. "Thirty-eight, single, and he's been on the ambassador's staff for years. Doesn't look like there's a mark against him, but Reddington says that he's responsible for the death of this woman." A pretty blonde woman appeared on the screen. She was young, all bright smiles and a future stretched out ahead of her. "Amanda Clemmons. Twenty-three. Her body was found trapped in a car that had been driven into a lake. The driver was never found."

"He's using the information to blackmail them, right? What's he hoping to get from Krause?" Ressler asked.

Liz sighed. "Believe me, I asked him. He fixated on his croissant." She couldn't help the snort of a laugh that escaped at the looks she received. Yeah. She knew it was absurd. They all did by this point. Welcome to another day in the life of the Reddington Task Force.

Cooper's gaze remained fixed on the sparse intel, and Liz could see the subtle tells of emotion playing just below his stony mask. He set his jaw and turned to the team. "Keen, Ressler, I want you on Krause. Talk to him. See if you can find out why this Collector might be targeting him. Park, you and Agent Mojtabai keep digging. Deep. Maybe we can follow the trail back and find where our Blacklister is getting his intel."

Liz gave a terse nod and fell into step with her partner towards the lift that would take them to the garage. The yellow doors rattled closed before she felt Ressler's gaze turn on her. "You think this has to do with your mother?"

"You and I both know Reddington always has an agenda, and right now he's focused."

"He told Cooper he wouldn't hurt your mother."

"He lies. That's what he _does_."

She watched his lips twitch just a little. "Does he?"

The doors opened and she turned a disbelieving look on him. "This is Reddington we're talking about. Every time I think he's capable of an honest moment with me, I find out whatever it is I believed was wrong. He's not my father, he's Ilya."

"But did he ever say he was either one? Actually say it?" He held his hands up in mock surrender at the look the question got him. "Hey, I'm not defending him. The guy's a prick and he'll let us think whatever benefits him, but even you have to admit we haven't caught him in an out-and-out lie. It's about listening to exactly what he's saying and figuring out what he's leaving out."

"That's been my life for the last seven years. It's exhausting."

"Hey, I already said the guy's a prick."

She shook her head as she circled around to the passenger side door. As she opened it she met and held his gaze. "Do you still think he cares? About me, I mean."

Ressler stood there for half a beat as if he were considering it, but then he broke that stare to hop into the SUV. Liz followed suit, assuming he'd move past it without another word. He revved the engine and she saw him check the mirrors before loosing a long breath. "That's the only thing about him I know for sure," he said at last and put the vehicle into reverse.

* * *

Brigitte had set him up with a tiny studio apartment. It was furnished with more than he really needed, but it didn't hurt to have a place to go back to to crash and go over what he'd found.

Maddie Tolliver's hotel room had been cleaner than Jacob had hoped for. She had taken any papers of importance with her. The bed was made, her clothes were neatly tucked away in the closet, and the towels were hung over the edge of the shower glass. He had thought that the only thing he would truly walk away with was the bug that he'd planted on the inside lip of the nightstand, but then he'd spotted the glass with the telltale sign of lipstick stains. He hadn't intended to _take_ anything from the room, but most people would brush it off as the cleaning staff anyway. If they did a sweep of the room he'd lose his chance at audio. At least this way he could run a DNA test and hope to find the real name behind Maddie Tolliver.

A knock at the door took Jacob to his feet, his gun in hand and his gaze hard. He adjusted his grip on his weapon, inching towards the front door carefully, his boots soft against the old wood. He reached forward to unlock the deadbolt and recoiled back, ready for anything on the other end. When nothing came he opened it to find his employer on the other side. She quirked one auburn eyebrow. "You're a bit paranoid, aren't you?"

He snorted and holstered his weapon. "You usually call."

"I didn't realize we'd known each other long enough for a _usually_ ," she mused, her tone light as she pushed her way into the apartment. Her blue gaze swept the space, falling on the dossier that Jacob had pulled apart like a puzzle he was working. "Interesting choice."

"What are you doing here?"

"Wondering what you're doing. Agent Keen is working a case."

"I have someone watching her."

"And would you trust that someone with your life?"

"He's your man."

"And you're the one I hired to protect her. Those people are there to support you, not replace you."

Jacob stooped down, grabbing for a collection of papers. "In my experience, it's never the obvious threat that gets you."

Brigitte took the offered file and frowned a little at Tolliver. If Jacob didn't know better, there was a hint of approval in those guarded eyes. "What makes you think she's the threat?"

"There's no reason for her to be in Keen's life. She may be another informant, but if you were able to tag Reddington as one, I'd guess you'd have a note about that for her if she was."

A small sound of acknowledgement left her and she looked directly at him. "So who is she?"

"I don't know yet, but I will. I have the room bugged."

"She'll find those."

"Maybe, but there's nothing she can do about the glass she left. DNA doesn't lie."

"It can if it's not a trusted source."

"It's a trusted source. You don't have to worry about that."

"Zanetakos told me she was handing over her best. Good to know my money isn't being wasted." Her gaze swept him up and down. "Tell me, you have to have a theory."

"I'd rather wait until I have the facts."

"Sure, but where's the fun in that? What's your gut say?"

Jacob pulled in a deep breath and crossed over several more piles of papers. He reached down for one that he recognized and held it out. "A few years ago Keen went on the run. Apparently she was framed by some sort of shadow organization or something like that, but while she was in the cold she publicly admitted to being Masha Rostova. I did some digging."

"Did you now?"

"She's the daughter of a KGB spy named Katarina Rostova. No known photo, no concrete details. Everything is hear-say with this woman. If she's Keen's mother, though…."

"DNA doesn't lie," Brigitte murmured softly.

"Right."

"You think that's who she is?"

"Maybe. It's worth exploring if nothing else."

"And if she is Agent Keen's mother, you don't think she'll be a threat?"

Jacob looked over to where she was standing, his guard flashing up at the tone of her question. He tilted his head a little to the side and studied her for a moment. "Just because someone's blood related doesn't mean they're not a threat."

There was a delay, but finally she huffed what he thought was a laugh at that, handing the file back.. "If anything happens to her on your watch, you won't have time to call an extraction before I get to you. Keep that in mind." Then she turned and walked for the door, leaving Jacob staring in confusion.

In the weeks since he'd taken the job she'd never come by the little apartment, but that day she had, even if only for five minutes and a threat. Whoever Elizabeth Keen was to her, whatever the fed had that Brigitte Tremblay needed, it was important to her. Clients didn't cross St Regis operatives off, not if they wanted to survive the aftermath themselves, but this woman didn't seem worried about that for an instant. She moved through the world like the one that made the rules in a game of her design. Whatever she was after, whatever she wanted, she didn't expect anyone to know until long after she'd had it. He'd worked for people like that before, but never anyone that could pull it off. This woman… she was good. She knew how to play the game, and if Jacob could manage to survive it, it'd be one hell of a ride.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : You know you've been followed a lot when it's more of an annoyance rather than a concern. Poor Liz has just sort of learned to live in that space.

I hope everyone's doing well and staying safe! Happy Fourth to my American readers. 

**Next Time** : Liz and Ressler hunt a Blacklister, Cooper and Reddington have a heart to heart, and Tom lands himself in a lot of trouble.   



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Ressler hunt a Blacklister, Cooper and Reddington have a heart to heart, and Tom lands himself in a lot of trouble.

**Chapter Six**

This wasn't their first Blacklister that exploited secrets, but he was one that Reddington found interesting while he was hunting down Liz's mother. A woman that Red himself had referred to as a secret keeper once. The question wasn't if this case had to do with Katarina Rostova, it was how. Would the Collector lead Reddington to her somehow? To the Sikorsky Archive that the people behind the Townsend Directive thought she'd stolen? Or perhaps he wanted to destroy any evidence that might clear Liz's mother in their eyes. _Why_ , that was the big question. He'd loved her once, she thought. But that had been when she had thought he was her father and when she thought he was Ilya. Now she was back to square one not knowing who he was or what his connection was to her or her mother. Ressler had said that the only thing he knew for sure was that Reddington cared about her, but what if that wasn't true? He'd used her once to find the Fulcrum. Maybe she was just a convenient tool to get him to where he needed to go.

If there was one thing that Elizabeth Keen had learned as an absolute truth over the years it was that everyone had secrets. Everyone. And Bruno Krause was no exception.

Liz and Ressler had been left to sit for what felt like hours, waiting on the attache to make time in his schedule to meet with them. They'd only gotten the meeting in the first place because they'd let slip that he was being targeted, but it had been a calculated release of information meant to get them through the door more quickly. Well, they'd gotten through the door, but for all their hurry they had been left to wait.

"Are you sure she's telling you the truth?"

Liz blinked, Ressler's voice startling her out of her daze. "Who?"

"Your mother."

"She has no reason to lie to me."

"That you know of." Liz shot him a look and Ressler shrugged. "What? With all the back and forth you've been doing with Reddington over the years … I mean, you've done a DNA test, right?"

"You mean a DNA test like the one with Kirk that showed he was my father?"

That pulled a rough chuckle from him. "Okay, fair enough, but I just mean…" He took a deep breath, pushing it out through his nose. "I'm here, Keen. If you need me. I mean it."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Be careful. I might take you up on that."

Any response he might have given was cut short by the door opening to reveal Bruno Krause. He was a tall man, broad, with striking blue eyes. He offered a curt nod and spoke with a thick accent. "Agent Ressler. Agent Keen. Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm not certain I understand why you are here?"

Liz and Ressler stood from their places. "We believe someone may be targeting you, Mr Krause," Ressler answered.

"Why would they be targeting me? I'm nobody."

"You have access," Liz pointed out. "Diplomatic immunity can take you a long way."

"I'm not corrupt."

"Really? Did Amanda Clemmons think you were squeaky clean too?" Ressler asked pointedly and Krause paled.

"I'm sorry… who?"

"Amanda Clemmons," Liz pressed. "Five years ago you two went for a drive and you crashed her car into a lake and left her for dead. That's not easy to forget."

"But when something like that comes out, it is easy for someone to use it against you," Ressler added.

"What is all of this?" Krause demanded. "Are you here to arrest me? You have no proof of this."

"No, we don't," Liz answered. "But a man known as The Collector either will or has reached out to you. All we know is what he's using against you, not what he wants from you." She watched as he shifted a little in his place, nerves on edge. "If you help us catch him, we can help you."

Liz watched as his icy blue eyes shifted from her to Ressler, almost as if he expected help there. Liz's partner shook his head. "Diplomatic immunity may keep us from arresting you today, but do you really think you're worth enough to the German government to risk their US relations?"

Krause glanced nervously at the closed door behind him and Liz's phone started buzzing in her jacket pocket. She didn't dare reach for it and risk breaking his moment of decision. Finally, he pulled in what was likely supposed to be a steadying breath. "This man - The Collector - he reached out to me. I will help you, but I want to make a deal first."

Ressler nodded. "Let's take a trip."

Krause nodded and they ushered him out of the room. Security didn't stop them as he walked out of the front door of the German embassy and onto US soil. Ressler showed him to the back seat of the SUV they had arrived in and Liz risked a glance at her phone. There was a single text from her mother's number:

_They found me. I'll be in touch._

"Keen?"

Liz blinked hard and found Ressler staring at her. She'd stopped moving, her whole focus on the text and all the questions that accompanied it. "I think my mother's in trouble."

"You need to go?"

She sucked in a breath, hoping to use it to push the words out from her throat, but they stalled there. Regardless of what Reddington got from it, Krause was a terrible man that would help them reach a different type of terrible man with a broader reach. This was their job. She couldn't just run off at a single text with no context.

"No," she managed. "She won't be there anyway. I'll have to wait until she reaches out. Let's get this guy."

Ressler watched her for a long moment before he finally nodded, circling around to the driver's side and slipping into the vehicle. Liz followed, her phone heavy in her hand.

* * *

There was something about the ease in which the United States government had been willing to throw out his first immunity agreement as if it had never existed at all that left Reddington more hesitant than he used to be to meet with Elizabeth or the Task Force at the Post Office. He preferred a venue of his own choosing. Preferably one with multiple exits. It wasn't that he distrusted the Task Force, per se, but he knew the types of people that they answered to.

When the call came through that day requesting his presence he had countered with his own location. He'd expected Elizabeth, though, not Cooper.

Reddington turned just as Dembe was escorting the assistant director into the kitchen that had become his new favourite haunt and, never one to broadcast that dome one had managed to catch him by surprise, Red flashed a charming smile. "Harold, you simply must try the Cassoulet. I typically prefer it with duck, but the chef uses a rare type of pork that is to die for."

"I'm not here for lunch."

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy one," Red countered, his smile refusing to falter. "Tell me, what brings you here?"

"I'll admit, when Elizabeth brought The Collector in as the next name on your Blacklist, I was hesitant. I thought you might be sending us on a wild goose chase."

"Why's that, exactly?"

"You know why. He was a myth in the intelligence community. A man with access to too many secrets, more intel than any country would ever allow to be centralized."

"One country, certainly," Reddington answered lightly. "But many? That's an entirely different story."

Harold stared at him and Red could see that clever mind piecing it together. "The Cabal."

"Tell me, what have your people found that has made you a believer?"

And just like that his expression closed off. It was like a visual reminder that Harold Cooper hadn't gotten his start in the Bureau. He was former Navy Intelligence. He knew when to show a hand and when to hide it. Reddington ducked down to search through a cabinet for a bourbon he knew was hidden away there while Cooper decided how much to share.

"Your story on Bruno Krause checked out," Harold said after a moment and Reddington reached for the bottle. It was tucked away like the cook thought it might stay hidden.

"And the young woman?"

"We may not have enough to put him away from it, but the fact we knew about it certainly got his attention. He's agreed to work with us."

Reddington straightened, bottle in hand. "Oh. Then The Collector has already reached out?"

"Seems to be that way."

"Splendid. Krause will lead you straight to him. Once you have him, I'll need ten minutes. Preferably before he's delivered to the Post Office." He reached around for two glasses and set them next to the bottle on the counter between them.

"No."

"Five then," Reddington countered the single, sharp word.

"No."

He tilted his head. "Harold, a meeting with The Collector is the entire reason I brought you this case. I must speak with him."

"About what?"

Ah, so that was his angle. "It's a private matter."

"Elizabeth's mother?"

Reddington didn't answer, but instead he poured a couple fingers' worth of bourbon into either glass and pushed one over to Cooper.

The other man didn't touch it, but instead held his gaze. "Let me be clear, Reddington. You receive leeway with our task force. We overlook and ignore more than perhaps we should, but one thing I will not overlook - not today, not tomorrow, or any day in the future - is your conscious choice to betray Elizabeth by targeting her mother."

A moment of silence stretched between them and Red raised his own glass to his lips to take a long sip. He closed his eyes and allowed the liquid to burn its way down his throat. Once it had, he set it down, the glass clinking sharply against the metal surface, and his eyes slid back open to lock gazes with Harold. When he spoke, it was with great care, as if tasting each word before letting it fall from his tongue. "I…. appreciate your care for Elizabeth. I do. It gives me… hope that she'll always have someone to watch over her, even in the darkest of moments. You, Donald, Aram… perhaps even Agent Park someday. The devotion, the love you've shown her, gives me peace." He paused, head tilted to the side. "But my word is my bond, Harold, and I gave you my word I would not harm Elizabeth's mother."

"Then what do you want with The Collector if not to use him to get to Katarina Rostova?"

"There's a storm coming, Harold. I've already experienced the first waves. Elizabeth has as well, even if she didn't understand it. It will be dangerous. I have…. protected her and equipped her as best as I know how, but I fear it won't be enough. You all have become her… family. I need - _she_ needs - that to remain true, no matter what."

"Are you going somewhere?" Harold asked carefully and Reddington chuckled.

"Someday. Smile, Harrold. We're nearing the finish and you're about to prove the intelligence community wrong by bringing in The Collector. Won't that be fun?"

His movement was slow, hesitant, but Harold reached forward for the glass that had been offered before. He drew it up to his lips and sipped at it, never letting his gaze leave Reddington. He didn't argue the reaffirmed promise, nor did he push any further on the pieces that Red had revealed. It was for the better. Reddington wasn't ready to admit his own mortality openly yet. Perhaps he never would be.

* * *

Tolliver was on the move. It had been a possibility he was prepared for, but she had played it smart. She hadn't disabled the bug. Instead she had moved around it. If Jacob hadn't had someone on the building he might not have known she was on her way out until it was too late to follow. As it was, Tolliver herself slipped her tail. Whoever this woman was, she was good.

Thankfully the tail had managed to stay on at least one of Tolliver's men - Simms - and he'd gotten the location over to Jacob. It was the best lead he could have gotten short of a direct sighting. As far as he could tell, Simms was trusted. He might not be with Tolliver then but he'd lead him to her.

Jacob kept his distance, but never too far as he watched. He followed the man across the metroplex to the point that he started to question if it was the best use of his time. Errand after errand, meeting and revealing nearly nothing. It was grunt work. He should have put one of Brigitte Tremblay's go-fors on it, but there was something pulling at Jacob's instincts that said that this was important. That he would lead him somewhere important.

He took a risk around five in the evening when Simms stopped for coffee. Jacob followed him into the crowded shop and bumped into him, tagging a small listening device to his clothes. He waited until Simms was gone and pulled it up to his phone, testing it. He'd seen his face, it was true, but he had ears on him in case he lost visual.

Simms several more stops before circling around in the most roundabout way to an apartment complex. Jacob knew where he was going before he ducked into the lobby. It would have taken effort not to, knowing Simms' connection to Tolliver and the fact that there was some sort of unexplained connection between Tolliver and Keen. It was her building. Tolliver's man was on his way to see Keen.

Jacob tucked himself back into an alcove outside the next building over and tapped his earbud, pulling up the audio feed in time to hear the elevator door ding. He could almost see Simms exit it onto the floor that Jacob had only seen briefly - early on when he had scouted out Keen's building - and to her door. Knuckles rapping against the solid wood door sounded over the feed and Jacob leaned back, eyes closed, and listened as the door opened.

"Simms." Keen. Tired. It'd been a long day. "Is she…?"

"She's safe. She wanted me to tell you."

"She could have told me herself."

"There wasn't time."

"What happened?"

"The room was bugged."

"Bugged?"

"One of Townsend's people. Possibly one of Reddington's." Interesting. Jacob only knew one name, but he logged both away.

Keen loosed a breath. "What can I do?"

"Exactly what you're doing. We'll reach out. She just… wanted you to know."

"Simms?" There was a pause and Jacob imagined the man turning back from his hasty retreat. "It was a risk coming here to tell me. Thank you."

"Wasn't my call."

"Still. Tell my mother… I'll do whatever she needs."

Jacob blinked hard. Her mother? Maddy Tolliver was Katarina Rostova? Well that was a twist he hadn't seen coming.

"Hey."

It took half a beat longer than it should have for Jacob to realize the voice had been from his right on the sidewalk rather than over the feed he was listening to. He turned to see a face he recognized as one of Tolliver's goons. Short and thick, he looked like he'd spent his life intimidating anyone that would cower away. "What's up, man?" Jacob asked casually.

"Step out."

Jacob tapped his earbud. "I'm on a call."

"I don't think so."

"I don't really care what you think, buddy, I -" Jacob's cover argument was cut off as the man reached out, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his shirt, and spun him around to throw him against the building wall _hard_. Jacob felt his head collide with it and the breath was pushed out of his lungs on impact. He would not have bet that the guy had that kind of strength tucked away in that build.

Live and learn.

Tolliver's thug came around for another blow and Jacob bobbed out of the way, his opponent's balled fist slamming into the brick wall and causing him to howl in pain. Jacob used the distraction and slammed his head forward into the building. The other man staggered and Jacob shoved him hard into the alley and out of any potentially prying eyes.

It was enough time for him to recover, apparently, and Jacob coughed hard as the opposite fist made contact just below his ribs. He gasped, finding it hard to hard to suck another lungful of air in and Tolliver's man came at him again, rushing him like a linebacker.

Jacob sidestepped and caught him from behind. He wrapped an arm around the shorter man's neck and lifted. He adjusted his angle and twisted hard before releasing him, sending the man crumbling to the ground with his head tilted in an unnatural way.

Instincts kicked in and Jacob turned, finding someone standing right behind him. He didn't have a chance to react before the newcomer shot a taser out, electric currents ripping through him and Jacob was swallowed up by darkness.

* * *

There weren't many people that Liz could call at half past midnight and for a favour, and the list was even shorter of people that she'd trust with her daughter's life, but Ressler landed right up there at the top. Oh, he'd given her enough grief over it and asked her if she really wanted to call in a favour for a glorified babysitter, but she thought that layered under the gruff teasing that he knew how much trust she was putting in him for this. Where there was one threat, there were usually others just waiting for a chance to strike, and the last thing Liz thought she could handle was leaving to help her mother and coming back to find whatever babysitter she managed to snag at this hour dead and her daughter gone all over again. Ressler wouldn't let that happen. That she knew. That she trusted.

And she was sure he knew that too.

Simms hadn't wanted to bring her along, but Liz hadn't really given him much of a choice. If the man was after her or her mother, they didn't know yet, but either way she couldn't sit idly by.

The van pulled to the curb outside of an old, seemingly abandoned warehouse and Liz stepped out and waited until he circled on around to lead her inside. He paused at the door. "We walk in there, you're not a cop, you understand?"

"You think this is my first enhanced interrogation?" Liz snapped irritably. "He was at home. Near my daughter. No, I'm definitely _not_ a cop in there."

Simms studied her for a long moment before finally accepting it and walked her in. Liz could hear the distant sounds of a beating coming from inside and they followed the noise to a large, dimly lit room. Katarina stood in the middle, eying a man that had his back to Liz so that she couldn't see his face. He was strung up by his wrists to a low-hanging beam, his bare feet barely touching the concrete floor, and a mountain of a man stood next to Katarina. He reared back, laying a hard blow to the bound man's middle that sent him swinging.

"That him?" Liz called out, moving towards the scene without hesitation. "What's he given you?"

"Nothing," Katarina answered., drawing the word out. "Yet." She motioned and the man to her side punched him again, swinging him around this time.

Liz turned to look at the face of her mother's enemy, but the bloodied face that greeted her was the last one she ever expected to see and she felt the floor shift dangerously beneath her, his name riding out on a breath. "Tom."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : I'm really excited to get to this chapter. The Red and Cooper scene took forever to write. While all the characters have unique voices, those two speak in layers fitting intelligence officers. It was a tough scene, but a lot of fun, and one of those that's going to set the path forward on the big bad of the story.

Oh, and Liz knows that Tom's alive. Who's excited? :D

 **Next Time** : Jacob struggles to wrap his mind around what he learns about Elizabeth Keen and Ressler gets pulled into a glitter party by Agnes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob struggles to wrap his mind around what he learns about Elizabeth Keen and Ressler gets pulled into a glitter party by Agnes.

**Chapter Seven**

He woke up in a warehouse, slumped down in a chair with his wrists bound together. A man was working on the shackles, threading a chain through the link on the cuffs, and Jacob took the momentary distraction to his advantage as he slammed forward. His head collided with the other man's and it sent him stumbling back and away.

Then he was on his feet, wrists still cuffed, when his captor straightened and Jacob saw a man that dwarfed him both in height and weight. That's all he saw before the man reared back and landed a blow hard enough to drive him back in the chair, rocking it back dangerously.

The man continued with the task Jacob had interrupted and pulled the chain taught. Jacob was hauled up by his wrists until his bare feet were barely touching the floor. Funny, he hadn't even realized they'd taken his boots until that very moment.

He hung there and he could already feel the ache start in his left shoulder from the old injury. It had healed up, just like the knife wounds in his side, but the damage done had left it weaker than it had been before. More vulnerable to injury. He wondered if his captors knew that or they just wanted to string him up for effect.

The sound of heels clicking against the concrete floor drew his attention as Maddie Tolliver approached. Her mother. Keen had referred to the woman as her mother. Interesting. Everyone in espionage had at least heard of the KGB spy. If she was who Keen thought she was, Jacob was already dead.

"Thank you, Elias," Tolliver addressed the man that had cuffed Jacob. She then turned her icy blue gaze on him. "Who are you?"

"I'm nobody," Jacob answered, his voice rough and he tried to stretch his legs a little longer to take some pressure off of his wrists and shoulders.

Tolliver motioned and the man - Elias - pulled back and landed a hard blow to Jacob's ribs. It threw him off balance, bare feet sliding across the concrete as he swung and all of his weight momentarily pulled against the chain. A sharp, pained sound escaped him and he found Tolliver studying him as he stopped swinging. "This is simple enough. I have questions and you'll give me the answers. If not immediately, Elias will get them out of you."

"I don't talk," Jacob growled.

"We'll see about that. Who do you work for? Townsend? Reddington?"

Jacob leveled a determined glare on her and she motioned. It became a cycle. Another blow, another question. Sometimes Jacob would pop off with a flippant response and sometimes he would just focus on staying on his feet. It wasn't his first time being tortured for information, and he meant what he said: he didn't talk. It was one of many things that had won him Bud's respect when he had first come into St Regis. From mock interrogations that left real breaks and bruises to real ones in the field, Jacob plastered a shit eating grin on his bloodied face and snarled his way through until he found an opportunity to get away. This time might be a little more difficult.

He wasn't sure how long had passed when he found Tolliver directly on him. He must not have looked like much of a threat as she leaned in, popping him none too gently against the cheek to pull his attention around. "A name and it stops," she promised.

"Go to hell."

She stepped back and Elias came at him again. Everything hurt. He felt like he was bruised and strained from head to toe, even if the overall damage wasn't severe. She wasn't trying to kill him, she wanted answers. Giving them to her wouldn't only mean breaking his contract, though, it would be signing his own death certificate.

"What's he given you?" a new voice asked from behind. Familiar, but he could turn to see the newcomer.

"Nothing. Yet." Tolliver motioned and Elias swung again, this time the blow a glancing one that sent him twisting around as well as swinging.

And then he saw her. Elizabeth Keen. She stood in the middle of the warehouse in her t-shirt and jeans, hair tied back, and staring at him like she'd seen a ghost. Like she recognized him. "Tom." The name his employer had given him road out on a breath and he blinked hard, trying to make sense of the recognition he saw in her eyes. "Get him down."

Tolliver looked as confused as Jacob felt. "Elizabeth, do you know—"

"Get him _down_!"

Someone off to the side flipped the switch and Jacob felt the chain go slack. His feet flattened against the floor but his knees buckled, sending him crashing the rest of the way down. Keen was on the floor with him in an instant. "Hey. Easy. You okay? Tom, look at me."

He grit his teeth and forced his gaze up to her. She was close, her touch gentle as she checked a gash that had left blood streaked down the side of his face. She looked terrified. Haunted. He let her check him over without a word, not daring to contradict the name she had called him. If she knew Brigitte Tremblay somehow - the only reasonable scenario he could come up with, even if his employer had indicated she hadn't had direct contact with her and that Keen should never know he was watching her - this fed might be his only hope at getting out of this alive. Whatever layer of cover she was weaving, he'd roll with it.

Jacob met her eyes and there was a myriad of expressions battling each other for more than half a second on her pretty face. Relief and surprise, fear and confusion, and all of them underlined by something Jacob was having trouble reading. Sadness, maybe. It was hard to tell. She bent down, though, and pressed a surprising kiss against his lips. "How are you here?" she whispered, her tone a little desperate.

"Not in front of her," Jacob managed.

"She's my mother. I found her. She's—"

"Just had her thug beat the hell outta me."

Keen stopped a moment as if she were arguing with herself on what to do. Finally she looked back to Tolliver who was waiting more patiently than Jacob would have expected. "Did you know who he is?"

"He's the man that was outside of your apartment building. He bugged my hotel room, dropped another one on Simms."

"He's my husband."

Jacob schooled his expression as best he could at that one. Okay, this was getting stranger and stranger.

"Your husband is dead," Tolliver responded and Keen looked around to where Jacob was trying to straighten a little better even though he was still on the floor.

"They told me he was."

There was a long moment of indecision where the two women seemed to be waging some sort of war of the wills. Tolliver didn't want to go, that much was clear, but Keen wasn't backing down. Finally, it was Tolliver that gave, and she motioned her people out with a warning glare in Jacob's direction and a promise that they would be right outside.

"The key?" Keen prompted and Tolliver's blonde brows shot up. She frowned, but handed it over.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Keen turned back to him. She worked to release the heavy cuffs from his wrists and, as they fell away, she looked directly at him. "I don't understand. Reddington said…. Cooper identified your body. How are you here? Was it Scottie? Did she….?"

Jacob watched as the woman that had just uncuffed him lost her battle with her own emotions and the tears that had been building started to spill over. She looked at him, desperate, and guilt tugged harder than he thought it ever could. He wanted to give her something - anything - to make the tears stop. He didn't know why, but he was halfway to reaching to thumb them away before he caught himself. "I don't know what you're talking about," he managed, his voice nearly as raw as hers.

"Where have you been?"

He shouldn't give anything away. He should play it safe until he had more information. He knew that, but even so, the next question tumbled from his lips without permission. "Do you know me?"

Keen stopped, choking down a sob and they sat on that cold floor in the middle of the warehouse staring at each other. "W-what do you mean?"

He shifted, trying to get his feet under him and she reached out. Her fingers touched his arms and she helped guide him up and steady him there, never breaking eye contact and he was fairly certain that those blue eyes of hers were cutting through to his soul. "I'm, uh… missing time."

"How much?"

Every inch of training screamed to shut up while every instinct somehow countered it, urging him to tell her anything she wanted to know. "Ten years. Well, starting about twelve years ago," he admitted softly. "Did we… meet during that?" They must have, and if they had then that meant Brigitte had been playing him. There was no other explanation for her handing over the same name that this woman was calling him.

"Yeah," Keen breathed and she reached up, her fingers soft against his bruised and bleeding face. "We had a family, a life. And then you died to…. help me find answers I didn't realize I needed to be looking for."

He pulled back from her touch. "Listen… I don't know what you think you know, but I'm not -"

"Jacob Phelps," she said firmly and he blinked in surprise. "You're missing ten years, so you're going by Jacob Phelps. They found you wandering alone when you were four, but you don't have any clear memories until you were nearly six and in your third foster home."

He pulled back a little farther. "Stop," he whispered, but she didn't.

"Frank and Eva Phelps adopted you when you were seven and you hated them. Frank was a drunk and Eva was useless. You have a scar here -" she reached around to the back of his head, fingers just above an old scar that wasn't visible beneath his hair - "where he broke a bottle over your head. You ran and the Major picked you up in New York City. He trained you."

"How could you know all of that?"

"Because you told me."

"I wouldn't tell anyone that."

"Not a mark. That's what you were thinking I was, right? Just a job?"

"Had to be."

"It started that way. I thought that was all it was, but it wasn't. Tom -"

"That's not my name."

"It was the name you chose. With me. With us."

He felt like he was drowning. Emotions of every shape and size crashed over him like waves that threatened to pull him under. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't focus. All he saw was this woman that he only recognized from a file standing there and rattling off the most intimate details of his life that _no one knew_.

She reached for him and he pulled away.

"Tom."

"I don't know what kind of game this is," he managed, stepping back, "but I'm done. She can't pay me enough for whatever angle she's playing."

Keen blinked at him, confusion replacing desperation. "Who?"

"The woman that hired me."

"Who is she?"

He shook his head, ignoring the headache that spiked as he did. "Doesn't matter. I'm done. I'm out. Good luck with Mommy Psycho out there."

Jacob didn't give himself half a second to let her talk him out of it. Instead he turned, starting for the far south exit. Unless Keen either called for help or Tolliver had the place surrounded, he should be able to slip out before they caught up with him. He'd be gone and never look back.

But why?

He shoved the inconvenient question down _hard_. For the first year or so after waking up to ten missing years he'd wanted nothing else but to find them again. There were so many missing moments, so many questions that the answers didn't quite fit. He'd wanted it more than anything, but it hadn't mattered. No one had the answers and no one could fix whatever had happened to his brain. The memories were gone and he had had to make a decision: move on or go slowly insane.

Jacob had moved on. He'd chosen to move on and it had worked out well for him right up until Brigitte Tremblay shoved him into this chaotic nightmare.

This woman - Keen, a fed of all things - swore they'd been together. She'd called him her husband.

He didn't remember her, even if he was strangely drawn to her. It didn't matter. Deep pocket clients with vague job descriptions were always more trouble than they were worth, and this was no exception. He was done. He was going home.

* * *

After she had woken up - after Reddington had told her that Tom was dead - Liz had dreamed about him nearly every night.

Some dreams were nicer than others. Playing with Agnes, teasing moments, Tom's laugh…. But others were nightmares that left her with her face pressed into the pillow so that her sobs didn't take Agnes up. Garvey's men in their home and Tom bleeding out in front of her. There was one where they were chatting in the kitchen. Agnes was in the living room getting ready for school, Tom was cooking breakfast and teasing her about something, and she asked him a question. When he didn't answer she turned in time to watch him fade away, all traces of him gone from their lives.

This was worse. It was like a waking nightmare. Two and a half years after her husband was murdered, after a man she trusted had ID'd his body, after she and their daughter had done everything they could to pick up the pieces of their lives, there he was.

And he couldn't remember her.

It was like the universe was playing a sick joke on her and she had no idea how to even begin processing it. With the way he left, she might never get the chance to.

Liz had told Katarina what she knew, and that was that she had no idea what was happening. Yes, she'd been told her husband was dead. Yes, she was certain that was Tom. She knew him. And he was off limits. If she ran across him again she needed to call Liz immediately. She'd handle it.

And then Liz had left. She was emotionally spent and she had a sting first thing in the morning. If she was lucky, she might catch a couple hours' sleep before meeting Krause to coach him through the plan one more time.

When she had left Agnes had been asleep and Ressler had looked ready to crash out on her couch as soon as the door was locked behind her. At some point Agnes must have woken up to find her unsuspecting Uncle Donnie there and conned him into letting her stay up. The result was a surprisingly well constructed fort that was complete with what looked like a chair from the breakfast table to hold up the quilt acting as the roof that stretched over and used part of the couch and several pillows to hold the front 'flap' open. Peeking out from inside was a familiar pink and purple sleeping bag and Agnes herself was snoring softly, using a stuffed puppy as a pillow.

It was Ressler that had Liz stopped dead in her tracks and desperately trying to choke back a laugh, despite the night she had had. Her partner, normally so put together, was asleep on her couch with a tea cup and saucer on the floor next to him like he'd fallen asleep mid-tea party. If that weren't enough, he was _covered_ in glitter and had a tiara set precariously on his head so that his hair stuck out at odd angles around it.

Liz bit her lip as he stirred awake. "You were busy," she whispered.

Ressler blinked hard, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the tiara slipped from his head and clattered to the floor. Both adults cringed as the four-year-old turned inside her fort, but only managed to cuddle closer with the stuffed animal.

After a long moment Ressler sat the rest of the way up, swinging his legs around to stand. "Laugh it up, Keen," he said in a teasing, hushed tone. "You're the one that called in your big favour on babysitting duty."

"I needed someone I trusted and that's a short list these days." She let her gaze wander over to where Agnes was sleeping soundly. "How did she talk you into all of this?"

"Told me national security depended on it."

Liz choked on a laugh. "No."

"I swear she did," her partner chuckled, but the smile faded as he turned to look at her. "So what happened?"

Liz opened her mouth and then shut it again, not trusting anything swirling around her mind at the moment to make sense if she tried to explain it. She needed time to process. Time to figure out what the hell was happening.

Ressler sighed, drawing her attention back to him. "Listen, you don't have to tell me-"

"Ress…"

"-but I meant what I said. I'm here. Whatever you need. If it's watching the munchkin or backing you up when things go south."

" _When_?" Liz asked, struggling to keep tightness out of her voice.

The corner of his lips quirked up slightly. "When. I'm here. I'll be here."

Part of her wanted to tell him, to trust him, but the idea of even trying to put it into words that night left her more exhausted than she had been already. Instead she reached forward, her lips thinning out into something she hoped resembled a smile, and put a hand on his arm. "Thank you."

He offered her a tired, half-smile of his own and nodded towards the door. "I better get home to try to get this glitter washed off."

"Wouldn't want to show up to arrest The Collector looking like a party favour," Liz agreed and she watched him start for the door. "Hey Ressler?" He stopped and she swallowed hard to try to force the words out. When had it become so hard to be open and honest, even with the people that she cared about? "I trust you. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"And I'll tell you. Just… not tonight."

He watched her for a long moment before nodding, turning to leave without pushing it any further.

Liz waited until the door shut behind him and loosed a long breath. She'd been too optimistic. There was no way she was getting any sleep that night.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : I feel like maybe I should duck for cover for separating them again. In my defense, though, they won't be separated for long, and I did offer up a glitter-covered Ressler by way of apology :P 

**Next Time** : Reddington throws a wrench into their case, Liz chooses to trust Ressler with a secret, and ~~Tom~~ Jacob demands answers from Gina.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reddington throws a wrench into their case, Liz chooses to trust Ressler with a secret, and Tom Jacob demands answers from Gina.

**Chapter Eight**

Trust was not something that came easily to her these days. Every time she started to put her faith in someone they flipped it around on her, and while Cooper had been known to walk that line professionally with her, she never would have dreamed he was capable of lying to her about something like this.

She'd been over it again and again. Reddington had told her first, and while he was far from a paramount of honesty, she had gone to Cooper directly. He had been there when Tom flatlined and they had taken him back to identify the body. Cooper had been kind and he had been gentle, but there had been no room to misinterpret what he'd said. He had been clear when he had told her that her husband was dead.

But that had been Tom in her mother's custody. Bruised and beaten, sure, but she knew him. She would always know him.

That meant that her boss had lied to her or someone had pulled a very, very convincing one over on him. Either way, someone powerful had made sure Elizabeth Keen had thought her husband was dead and had done something to him to keep him from remembering her. She'd be damned if she didn't find out who, and that trail started with Cooper.

Liz hadn't been able to sleep after getting back home the night before. She'd tossed and turned before finally rolling out of the bed she used to share with him and digging around in her closet. She'd moved nearly everything that reminded her of Tom to storage except a box that she kept in the very back for those dark days. They'd become fewer and fewer the longer she survived without him, but every now and again she needed to hold onto something.

Her fingers touched the lid of the old filing box shoved back behind her clothes and she pulled it out, tossing the various odds and ends that had piled up ontop of it back into the closet and removing the lid. There wasn't much inside. A couple of his favourite books, a jumpdrive with his interview with the adoption agency from their first marriage, a smaller box that held their wedding rings, and a few photos. She reached down, pulling the framed photo from a trip to Boston years before from the top and found herself staring at his smiling face. She missed him. She hadn't stopped missing him.

A sharp buzzing from her phone by the bed shattered the moment and Liz jumped. She shot it a glare before unfolding from her place on the floor, placing the photo back in the box and standing. A text from Ressler was lit up on the lock screen:

 _Cooper needs us in early_.

Good. She needed to talk to Cooper too. If he'd lied to her, if he'd hidden the fact that Tom was alive for any reason, she needed to know.

Mornings at the Keen household were chaotic on a good day, but Liz had a cup of coffee down her throat and breakfast on the table before rousing Agnes a good hour before she normally would have. Her daughter moved sluggishly - late night tea and glitter parties with Uncle Donnie causing her to drag - as Liz made her way through her second cup and put her school bag together for her, reminding her once again that Shelly's mom had been willing to drop by early for carpool so they shouldn't make them wait.

Ten minutes later Agnes was out the door and on her way to school and Liz was speeding towards the Post Office, her focus on the question she needed an answer to.

It was everything Liz could do to stand still as the old, creaking lift sent her down to the basement level of the facility that they worked in, and she was through those faded yellow doors as soon as they started to open.

The Post Office was already buzzing with activity, other agents able to drop their lives and come in more quickly than she was. Liz barely heard Aram's chipper greeting as she barreled past him on her way to their boss' office. She knocked once and opened the door before Cooper had a chance to say if she should or not, halfway through, "Sir, we need to talk about-" before she realized that he wasn't alone. Ressler and Park stood at his desk, Park stopped mid-explanation, and Aram followed up behind her and excused himself as he entered as well. So much for a private conversation before everything started.

"Keen," Cooper greeted, "thank you for coming in early. We've had Krause move the meet to first thing this morning."

"Why?" Liz found herself asking. "Everything was in place."

"Reddington was insistent on being allowed to meet with The Collector before we transferred him in for questioning. A little too insistent."

"Not that he'd ever have an ulterior motive," Ressler grumbled, taking a sip from his to-go coffee cup clutched greedily in his hand. Right. He hadn't gotten a ton more sleep than Liz had.

"Do we know what he wants?" Park asked.

Cooper's dark gaze shifted over to Liz. "I believe it may have something to do with your mother."

"Why?"

"A hunch. Until Krause confirmed his existence, The Collector was a myth in the Cold War-era intelligence community. A man that moved secrets around like currency."

Aram shifted nervously. "So you think Mr Reddington is gonna… what? Use him to hurt Agent Keen's mother?"

"We don't know," Cooper answered. "He's insistent that he has no interest in harming Elizabeth's mother, but I'm not willing to risk it. We couldn't change the location without tipping him off that something was happening, but we were able to move up the time table. That should allow us to get in, take The Collector, and get out before Reddington realizes it."

Liz stared at him. It would have been easier to have just given Reddington whatever time he'd requested with the man rather than risk the whole op, but Cooper was going out of his way to protect her. To protect someone she loved. She swallowed hard, trying to push the guilt down with it. She shouldn't have questioned Cooper on Tom. He would never intentionally hurt her like that. She knew better and she was embarrassed to think that, even for a few hours, she'd questioned that loyalty after everything that they'd been through.

"Agent Keen, was there something that you needed to speak to me about before you roll out?" Cooper asked, pulling her attention back around.

She shook her head. "No sir. It can wait."

He hadn't known. He wouldn't have betrayed her like that, which meant someone else had. Someone with means and motive, but she couldn't think about that now, no matter how much her mind wanted to wander to the new mystery. They had a job to do.

* * *

Jacob had been fourteen years old when he first stepped foot on the St Regis campus. He had been young and angry and bitter at the hands life had dealt him. His first memories were of foster care and no house lasted long. He'd land in one and be gone again in a month or two. Sometimes it was his own choice and other times they shoved him out the door the moment they realized that he didn't fit their image they had cooked up in their minds. And then, when he finally landed in a house that wanted to keep him enough that they made it official, it was all he could do to survive the experience.

Bud has saved him though. He hadn't cared that Jacob couldn't connect, that he couldn't empathize. He had taught him to use it. To outgrow the childish dream that said you had to have a family. He didn't need one. He didn't want one. And even if he had, they wouldn't have wanted him anyway. That's how he knew that Elizabeth Keen had to be lying.

He just didn't know how she'd gotten ahold of the kind of details that she had had. That's where everything fell apart. She was a fed. Maybe she had caught him? Investigated him? He had no way to know with a blaring decade's worth of missing memories, but he knew who would. And that's what had led him back to St Regis' home campus in upstate New York.

Jacob dropped the stolen car off at the gate to have them dispose of it before limping his way in towards Gina's office. He caught a few glances along the way, having only done the bare minimum to clean himself up and not catch attention. Various cuts had reopened on his trip upstate, leaving a newly dried smear of blood down the left side of his face from the cut along his eyebrow. Only the cap he'd snagged from the backseat of the stolen car did anything to shield him from curious eyes.

Gina wasn't in her office. It took some searching, but he finally found her at the far end of the campus on the training grounds. She watched from a secluded spot as students she had recruited ran drills, practiced skills, and were whipped into shape by a former drill sergeant.

It felt familiar. Mostly.

"Whatever happened to old Higgins?" Jacob asked by way of greeting. "You remember he used to run us into the ground when we were kids. I thought he'd never leave."

Gina turned, surprise clear for the barest of moments. "You look like shit. What happened?"

"Hit a snag."

She stood, motioning for him to follow her. "What kind of snag? I haven't heard from you or Tremblay since you left."

"She pay you?"

Gina's brows drew together questioningly and she led him into an old shed and out of the way of prying eyes. She turned towards him, her voice sharp. "What happened?"

"Tremblay knew a hell of a lot more than she was saying."

That didn't seem to help clear it up. "So what? Clients lie all the time. She pays and she-"

"Elizabeth Keen." The name stopped her mid sentence. "You know her? Because that's who Tremblay's been having me watch. Some fed on a task force that uses Raymond Reddington as her CI. And get this: the woman says she knew me. Married me."

"Tremblay said that?" Gina asked carefully.

"Keen. I got pinched by a woman she's been meeting with. Maddie Tolliver." That name didn't seem to ring any bells. "Had a chat-" he motioned to the cuts and bruises on his face - "and Keen showed up. Who is she?"

Gina cleared her throat. "A job. She _was_ a job."

"She knew things."

"It was deep cover. You made her believe she was…. everything." She reached forward, fingers surprisingly gentle against his face. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"No, you don't get it. When I say she knew things, I mean _real_ things. Things a mark couldn't have known. Did she investigate me?"

"Yes," Gina said a little too quickly and leaned forward, pressing her lips against him. "Forget about Keen and about Tremblay. I'll take care of it. Let's-"

"Why are you lying to me?"

A pair of soft brown eyes blinked hard. "I'm not."

"C'mon, Gina. I know every tell you've got." Little lies between them weren't unusual, but they were honest when it counted. They could trust each other even if the whole world was against them. That had always been the deal. "What the hell happened?"

He didn't like the look in her eyes. Indecision. Pain. _Fear_. "You married her," she said at last, her voice more unsteady than he'd ever heard it.

"As a job?"

She didn't answer, but the way her eyes darted said everything.

"I married her… for real? A fed? Bud would have…" his chest tightened dangerously and Jacob staggered back. "No."

"It doesn't matter."

"Bud gone, the new staff…. Did I-?"

"No," Gina cut him off, stepping closer again.

"Did she?"

That struck a nerve. "All she did was get you into trouble. I bailed you out. When the Major came for you, she wasn't even there. I was. I protected you, not her, and you still-" She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. "It doesn't matter. You don't even remember her."

"Why is that?" Jacob managed, his tone more desperate than he would have liked.

"I don't know."

He studied her for a long moment. "How the hell am I supposed to believe anything you tell me? You lied to me."

"I protected you."

"No…." He winced, looking at the woman he'd grown up with, the only person he thought he could trust. "You got what you wanted, however you had to get it. It's my turn."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I want answers."

"Jacob…"

"I need answers, Gina, and I don't trust them coming from you. You're gonna let me walk."

"You can't just-"

"Watch me." He turned, leaving her standing in the shed alone. He'd given her more than two years of loyalty with nothing to show for it and he was done. He needed to know what happened in those missing years.

Jacob pulled his burner phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial. "Tremblay, it's Phelps. We need to talk."

* * *

It was early, but sleep was difficult to come by these days anyway. Dr Clemons had managed to regulate his new dose of medication to keep the tremors at bay. The side effects were troublesome though, a particularly irksome one leaving him with the most vivid dreams he'd ever had, and that was a high bar to reach. Some were good dreams. Bubbles and laughter and gentle touches. Red hair tickled his cheek and a pair of blue eyes that he hadn't seen in too many years peering into his. Then others, often more frequent than the more kinder dreams, left his heart racing. Death and destruction and failure. He didn't dare try to sleep again after those.

So Dembe found him awake, despite the orders to rest more. He had had Chuck and Morgan shadowing Bruno Krause as best they could and it had paid off. He'd hoped Harold would be willing to work with him, to trust him, but hopes weren't all meant to pan out. Instead the assistant director thought he was pulling a clever one over on them by switching up the time table.

"Cooper is not going to allow you to meet with him," Dembe mused as Reddington handed the phone back to him after giving Morgan their instructions.

Reddington sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "No, and that does complicate the matter. I'd hoped for a better outcome than this."

"I'll make the call and have Bernard meet them at the site."

"Yes," Reddington agreed. "Call me when it's done."

* * *

"Everything okay this morning?" Ressler asked as they pulled up to meet Park and a handful of other undercover agents onsite. "You just about took Cooper's door off the hinges when you got there."

Liz glanced over from the driver's seat. "It was…." She pulled in a steadying breath. She wasn't very good at friendships. She knew that. It was easier for her to express that she cared by helping a friend hide a body than it was to admit to something personal when she wasn't backed into a corner. This was Ressler though. If anyone had proven himself trustworthy it was him. He was a steady voice of sound reason. An island of calm in the midst of her chaos. He could help her if she'd let him. He wanted to help her.

A tap on the window made her jump and Park stood there, waiting impatiently. Liz motioned to her and turned back to her partner. "Let's get this guy, then I'll tell you."

"I'm holding you to that, Keen."

She offered him the barest of smiles before piling out of the SUV to be met by the Metro PD officer that was explaining where his men were set up and, in turn, were ready to take orders to better assist the FBI.

His people were set up in a perimeter with two undercover inside to watch Krause. The plan was to have him signal them when he spotted The Collector. They would approach The Collector outside, arresting him before he ever made it into the coffee shop that Krause was sitting in. Simple enough.

" _Hey? Hey guys_?" Aram's hesitant voice came over their closed comm system. " _Mr Reddington is not involved with this, right? No one told him or anything?"_

Liz pushes a frustrated breath through her nose. "Why would we have?"

" _I'm looked into their security cameras inside and Chuck is in line to get coffee_."

"No way that's a coincidence," Ressler huffed.

"You think he'd try to take him?" Park asked.

Liz pursed her lips, frustration pulling at her. "Wouldn't be the first time. Captain Reynolds? We need to make sure that-"

"There's our signal," Reynolds said and Liz turned to see a man approaching. He fit the vague description of the former KGB officer that could have been The Collector. "Move in to-"

A gunshot rang out and the man dropped on the sidewalk.

Liz didn't wait as she sprang forward, even as others dove for cover. She knew who had taken that shot, even if his finger hadn't been on the trigger, and she wouldn't catch a bullet from the sniper.

The bullet had struck him in the chest, but hadn't killed him upon impact. He lay there, choking on his own blood as Liz skidded to his side on her knees. She reached forward, palms pressed against the wound uselessly. He didn't have long.

"Look at me," she demanded and his attention swiveled to her. "I know who you are. Why would someone try to kill you?"

He blinked heavily at her. "Don't know," he gasped, coughing hard and Liz winced as she felt the blood leaking through her fingers. "So many secrets."

"Only one. What secret would Raymond Reddington kill you for?" His eyes widened a little at that and Liz's narrowed. "Answer me. Please."

There was a long moment, sirens sounding in the distance, and she thought he would take the secret to his grave. Finally, he drew in one painful breath and loosed a single word on it: "Sikorsky."

And then he was gone.

* * *

It had been a hell of a day. Metro PD had helped with corralling the civilians and they had been able to at least ID the name that The Collector had been living under: Michael Kowlaski, though it didn't take a lot of digging to find that that was an alias. Until Aram uncovered more, it was the name they had.

Liz had shared the word that Kowlaski had given her with his dying breath, and while it meant nothing to Ressler it clearly meant something to her. It was a blackmail file, she explained. One that her mother had been accused of stealing. Had she? She said she hadn't. She also said that Reddington knew who had and that he refused to give the name up to save her life. Looked like they had their motive, even if all they could really do about it was unleash Liz and let her see if she could get Reddington to reveal even the slightest piece of information that might be helpful.

He hadn't and she returned to the Post Office as Ressler was finishing up a call with Metro PD and half collapsed into the seat at her desk across from his. She looked exhausted. Worn. As he hung up the phone, he wrestled with if he should ask her again what had happened the night before that had bothered her so much.

"Tom's alive," his partner whispered from her place, her voice so quiet that he thought he'd misunderstood her at first.

"Come again?"

She cleared her throat. "Can you close the door?"

"Yeah." He stood, swiveling around to close the door behind him and turned back to find her staring at him. "Did you say that Tom's alive?"

Liz nodded tiredly. "Last night when my mother called… her people had found a man outside my apartment building. He'd planted a bug in her hotel room and had followed Simms to my place. They'd taken him to her and she was questioning him. When I got there…."

"Holy shit," Ressler breathed. "How?"

"I have… no idea. He doesn't remember me. He doesn't remember us or anything that…."

"But somehow he ended up after your mother? That's a hell of a coincidence."

"It can't be, no, but I have no idea what's going on. He said he was missing time and working for some woman. I don't know who and he didn't stick around long enough for me to really find out."

"He's gone?"

"Wouldn't you be if some woman you didn't know said that you'd had a life together?" She reached up, hands against her face and Ressler had no idea how to help her. "He ran. That's what he was good at… before me. He said he spent his whole life running, so he ran from me." She swallowed hard and tears started to build. "I don't even know where he -"

Ressler stood at that and circled their desks. Liz was on her feet in a second and latched around him. He pulled her in, at a loss. Wasn't this just their lives though? The most bizarre, horrible things happened to her. The last seven years of her life had been… what had she called it? A FEMA disaster of a life? That was about right. "Liz," he tried, hoping he was saying something that would help more than hurt. "We'll find him, if that's what you want. We can find him."

She pulled back. "I want to, but he doesn't know me. It's like he never met me. Even if we did find him, what good would it do?" She sniffed hard, running the heel of her hand under her eyes and she cleared her throat. "It's late. I need to go pick Agnes up."

He watched her as she circled around, grabbing her purse out of her desk drawer with practiced stoicity. "Liz, if you need anything…."

"I know," she cut him off. "Thank you. Just… Let's keep it between us for now?"

"Done."

She tried for a smile and started out the door, leaving Ressler standing in their office with the weight of the new knowledge barreling down on him.

* * *

The storm outside fit her mood. It was everything Liz could do to plaster a smile on her face when she picked Agnes up and nod and _uh-huh wow_ at all the right times as Agnes babbled on about her day in jumbled sentences and excited rambles. By the time they pulled into the garage at the apartment building thunder was rolling overhead and Liz was glad that, if nothing else, they could go straight from the garage up to the apartment and they wouldn't get drenched. It was the single saving grace of the entire day.

Dinner, bath time, and a story later, Agnes was finally in bed and the storm still raged on outside. Liz spoke to her mother briefly, filling her in, before she poured herself a glass of wine and slumped onto the couch. Part of her thought she'd start crying again, but she was too exhausted. Too spent to work up the emotional energy to do more than stare blankly towards the kitchen, which only held her gaze because it was in her direct line of sight.

Kowlaski could have led her to answers - for mother and then eventually for herself - but Reddington hadn't dared let her have that. When Cooper wouldn't hand him over he'd sent a man to shoot him dead in the street. Whatever the Sikorsky Archive really was he didn't want her anywhere near it. He didn't want her saving her mother's life. Even when people came back to her they left again. Tom didn't remember her and while Ressler had been sweet in offering to help her look for him it wouldn't matter anyway. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. He was gone. She'd never see him again, and if she couldn't find out who really stole the Archive, her mother wouldn't be far behind him.

A sharp knock at the front door made her jump and Liz drew a breath, surprised at how unsteady it was. She blinked hard, clearing tears that had somehow crept up on her despite the exhaustion, and started for the door. She tipped up on her toes to peek out of the peephole, eyes widening at the sight.

Liz stepped back and quickly undid the deadbolt, throwing the door open to see Tom standing there. He was drenched, eyes rimmed red like he'd been crying too, and he looked worn down and terrified. "I…. didn't know where else to go," he managed, voice trembling and rough. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, sure if she spoke she would wake up to find it was a dream. So instead she reached out and carefully took his hand. He didn't pull away, but let her guide him inside and close the door behind him. They stood there in the hallway for a long moment and he was shaking. "She lied to me."

"Who?" Liz managed, but he was still there after the world left her lips.

"Gina. She said she didn't know how, but she knew… She knew your name." He swallowed hard. "I don't know who to trust."

"Me," she breathed, holding his gaze. "You can trust me."

Tom nodded and suddenly he was folding into her, her arms wrapped around his neck. They stood there for a long moment, frozen in place. It felt real. Solid. His breath against her ear and the way that his fingers wrapped into the fabric of the back of her shirt. He choked on a sob and she whispered soft encouragements. She had him. He could trust her. He was safe.

Outside the storm raged on, but in their home she held onto him like she might never let go again.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Well, at least you didn't have to wait as long as you usually do for the Keens to be reunited? 

This is where we're really going to hit the ground running. I've always preferred a 'them against the world' approach with the Keens (and, really, any badass couple like them), so watch out, world. By the end of it, all the cards will be out on the table, but it'll be a hell of a ride getting there.

Next Time: Tom re-meets Agnes, the Keens track down some information, and Liz gets hit with by an unexpected emotional blow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom re-meets Agnes, the Keens track down some information, and Liz gets hit with by an unexpected emotional blow.

The world as he knew it was coming apart at the seams. Jacob had held it together over the past couple of years with the same level of compartmentalisation that made him so damn good at his job. He'd buried himself in it, using the work to push aside what was probably a very natural desire for answers. Gina had encouraged it, which in retrospect should have been his first real clue. Memory gaps in their line of work could be dangerous, but her focus had remained on getting him physically healthy enough to go back into the field.

If she knew the truth or not, Jacob wasn't sure. Not that she'd admit to it anyway. Nor would Brigitte Tremblay who seemed to have dropped off the face of the planet. That woman he knew had answers. He'd like to have a few of his own on her at this point.

She could wait, though. For now there were more pressing matters.

Keen had been able to dig up some clothes from deep in her closet - a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants - for him to wear while his own clothes dried. Though with the way they fit he supposed they could have been his own too. He sat on the couch as she moved around the kitchen and his gaze traveled to every inch of the apartment he could see, hoping something might jog a memory.

Decorations lined flat surfaces, photos of Keen and a little girl that Jacob recognized from her file.

_I don't know any Keens._

The pointed statement jumped to mind and sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't quite place it, even if he heard the words in his own voice. He closed his eyes and focused. Bright lights, medical equipment, a doctor repeating her questions again and again like he should know the answer….

"You okay?"

Dark blue eyes snapped open to find Keen standing there, a steaming mug in either hand, and she looked like he might have missed the first time or two she tried to get his attention. "Yeah," he answered, his voice low and rough and she handed him one of the mugs. "Any chance you've got something stronger?"

She smirked at him and he caught a whiff of the bourbon wafting up as he took the mug.

Keen took a seat next to him on the couch, cradling her own mug and staring into it for a long moment. Finally she swallowed hard, opening her mouth as if she were going to say something, closed it again, took a sip from her mug, and pushed a breath out through her nose as she turned to meet his gaze. "What happened?"

He took a long swig of his own spiked tea. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me."

Keen settled back, but not comfortably. She folded her knees up and balanced her mug on one knee before closing her eyes. "You were… researching something."

"A job?"

"No, it was personal. A secret that Reddington was keeping."

"You telling me that I intentionally went up against Raymond Reddington?"

A strangely soft smile tilted her lips. "Several times."

"Was I suicidal or something?" he huffed, trying to keep his tone light, but he couldn't fathom a reason he would have gone toe-to-toe with the Concierge of Crime.

"You were usually trying to protect me. Or Agnes." Her gaze drifted over to a closed door that Jacob could only assume housed her sleeping daughter on the other side. "An enemy of Reddington's found out and came for you, trying to get ahold of the evidence. He stabbed you but you were… so stubborn. You wouldn't give him up."

He tilted his head in response to that. "So I was against him but I was protecting him?" Nothing about this made sense, and from the mirthless laugh Keen gave, she knew it too.

"I have a…. complicated relationship with him. Maybe it's be easier if I started at the beginning."

"Beginning of what?"

"You and me."

Jacob settled in as she started telling him about how they met, about finding out that he had lied, and then about finding out it hadn't all been a lie afterall. About how Raymond Reddington had hired him and how they had come back together.

The whole thing was like a fairy tale. One that he never would have let himself want, but now hearing that he had had it, felt more real than the lies Gina had fed him about his missing decade.

* * *

Liz woke the next morning to a tiny finger poking her repeatedly in the arm. She groaned softly, feeling the awkward angle she had fallen asleep in putting a strain on her neck that was sure to last through the day. The poking stopped momentarily, but weight on the cushion next to her was a fair warning that the reprieve wouldn't last.  
"Mommy?" Agnes called out in a stage whisper, moving her poking to her face. "Mommy, who's that man?"

Liz's eyes popped open and she felt Tom shift at her side, waking up at the not-so-subtle voice of the four year old that only thought she was using her inside voice.

Agnes was perched on the couch next to her, still in her pajamas, and Liz glanced over to find Tom blinking rapidly like he did whenever he fell asleep with his contacts in. Their daughter's eyes were on him, watching and studying in a way that Liz had conceded long ago that she had inherited from her daddy. That clever little mind was trying to place who he was, if she knew him, and why they'd been sleeping on the couch.

"Hey, honey. He's a… friend," Liz managed, trying to sound casual. "We fell asleep talking last night."

Agnes' dark blue eyes turned on Tom and he seemed to have gotten his contacts under control by now. She was watching him carefully. "What's your name?"

Tom was watching her just as closely, though he looked more uncomfortable than inquisitive. Where he'd had half a dozen questions for every piece of the story Liz had told the night before, he'd fallen silent when they got to Agnes. It had been a strange moment that Liz had tried to brush past, ignoring the fact that she had no idea what her husband had thought about kids before her. Had he wanted children? Had it even crossed his mind? Tom had told her years before that that was _just what married people did_ , but even in the midst of hating him she hadn't fully believed the flippant line from the man that would later reveal that he'd been toting around the ultrasound of the child they had never adopted. Tom had wanted children, Liz had no doubt about it. Tom had been desperate for a family, but the man he'd been before that? She had no idea.

"My name's Jacob," Tom said at last.

"From the box." She said it with such certainty for a phrase that had no meaning to either adult in the room.

Liz tilted her head. "What box, sweetie?"

"The one in the closet."

Well that wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "When did you go into my closet, Aggie?"

"When, when me and Ms Tolliver played hide and seek. There were _lots_ of pictures."

Liz felt her world shift, pieces of information colliding and she tried to make sense of them. Did Agnes know? No, of course not. She was four. She had no way to connect the hidden photos of her daddy with the stories Liz told her. She didn't keep photos of Tom framed and out in the open where she'd have to see him every day. Have to be reminded every day. There was no way Agnes had pieced it together, but her daughter was nothing of not inquisitive.

"And I was in them?" Tom asked carefully.

"Yep!" Agnes looked back at Liz. "Can I have waffles for breakfast?"

"Honey, we're out. I'll pick some up at the store after work," Liz offered, but received only a loud pout for the effort.

Tom shifted to her left, standing and looking very stiff. The bruises he'd received from Katarina's people had started to darken and he moved gingerly. "You got flour?"

"I think so?" Liz said uncertainly, watching him as he started for the kitchen.

For just a moment, Jacob Phelps seemed to ease out of the way for her Tom as he dug through the cupboards to search for ingredients. He found what he was looking for and set them on the counter, turning to look at Liz. "Sorry. I guess I just took over your kitchen."

A smile tilted her lips and it felt so real. Looking at him like that it would have been easy to pretend he never left. "It's okay. You want to put it together while I get her ready for school?"

"Yeah, sure."

It would have been easy to pretend that the whole horror show that had been Garvey in their home had never happened. That this was just another morning where she and her husband tag teamed responsibilities to get their kid ready for the day, but she couldn't. Liz knew she couldn't pretend it had never happened. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to Agnes. She fielded the terrifyingly observant questions from her daughter as she got her ready, never quite admitting who he was and reminding her that she shouldn't go poking around in her Mommy's closet or surprise gifts might not be surprised anymore and that wasn't nearly as fun.

With Agnes getting ready in her room Liz slipped back out into kitchen to find Tom pouring batter into a frying pan. "You don't have a waffle iron, so I figured everyone likes pancakes, right?"

"Listen," she said quietly, a quick glance behind her to make sure that Agnes hadn't followed, "Agnes has been through a lot and I think it's best if we don't say anything until we get your memories back."

Tom turned toward her, surprise breaking through. "You think we can?"

"I think we should try… You seemed to be here for answers." She glanced down. "Your pancake is burning."

He grumbled a soft curse and flipped it. His gaze remained fixed on it as he spoke. "I don't even know how I lost them or who took them."

"I know a memory specialist. Let me reach out and tell her what I know." Liz reached forward, her fingers ghosting against his arm. "We'll figure this out."

Tom flipped the pancake onto a plate and turned to look at her. "Okay. I trust you. I can't explain why, but I do."

Liz's lips tugged into a hesitant smile, but the moment was interrupted by the sound of Tom's phone buzzing on the table. He exchanged the plate for the phone, brows drawing together as he read the text.

"What is it?" Liz asked hesitantly.

"A guy I know. He was running a DNA sample on Maddie Tolliver."

"I already told you: she's my mother."

"Not according to Fitz." He waved his phone in the air to indicate the message. "I gotta go. He wants to meet."

She felt her chest tighten, but forced herself to breathe through it. "Give me fifteen minutes to get Agnes down to her carpool and I'm coming with you."

"Fitz doesn't do well with strangers."

"There's no way in hell you're going alone. Not after dropping a bomb like that. I've seen too many doctored DNA tests over the years. If he doesn't think she's my mother, he gets to explain why to me himself."

Tom stared at her and she thought she saw an old, familiar smile pull ever so slightly at the corners of his mouth. It was small and subtle, and one she used to see when she dug in on an issue that he found amusing. "Get the kid ready to go and we'll take a drive."

She nodded and pulled in a deep breath. Hopefully Ressler was willing to do one more favour and cover for her at work.

* * *

Tom's contact was named Alexander Fitz. He described him as a quirky man that St Regis used from time to time when they needed his specialized skillset. It had taken a little prodding and a promise that Liz wasn't looking to arrest Fitz for any crimes he may or may not have committed over the years while in St Regis' employ, but he finally explained that Fitz was their go-to man when it came to DNA research and tracking. Running and confirming DNA tests was the easy part of his job. He was also responsible for scrubbing the identities of operatives in the field so that if they were injured or caught that they wouldn't show up in the system in connection with their employer. Instead, Fitz worked his magic and they became someone else entirely.

He worked out of a small lab of his own creation in the basement level of his apartment just shy of Bunker Hill in Boston. Tom had told Liz to step to the side as he knocked on the front door and waved at the Ring camera. There was a long pause before the lock clicked open to allow him in. He motioned for her to follow and locked the door behind them. He led her through the home like it wasn't his first time there, winding through the narrow hall and to a bookshelf that he pressed just right to reveal a hidden stairway.

"You have got to be kidding me," Liz huffed, half laughing.

Tom just smirked and motioned for her to stay close as they made their way down the stairs.

"I heard you're on the outs with the boss lady," Fitz announced as the doors to his lab slid open to allow them through.

"You know how she can be," Tom offered casually.

"Yeah, but I'm not sleeping with her. I'd be afraid she would—" Fitz stopped mid-sentence as he stared at Liz. "Still don't let strangers into my lab, Jake, you know that."

"Alex Fitz, Liz Keen. Look. You're not strangers anymore. What'dya find for me?"

"Liz Keen? The mark you wanted me to run against Tolliver?"

Liz turned an accusing look on her not so dead husband and he looked like he was working very hard to maintain eye contact with Alex Fitz. "You said in your message that Tolliver wasn't Katarina Rostova?"

That pulled Fitz's focus around. "No," he said pointedly. "I said she wasn't Keen's mother. The woman you're calling Tolliver was a match for Katarina Rostova." He turned, digging through piles of junk on a nearby table until he found the file he was looking for and handed it over.

Tom flipped it open and, to his credit, shifted it so that Liz could get a look. The file was in Russian and she could only pick out a collection of words, but there were photos that accompanied it. A younger Maddie Tolliver stared up at them, and while she resembled the woman that had finally broken through Liz's memories at least in part, she was not the same.

A cold weight settled into her chest and she jerked up to look at Fitz. "Are you sure? Could you be wrong?"

His face screwed up and he turned to Tom. "You hearing her, Jake? She's questioning my work. You want me to walk you through my process, sweetheart? Might be a bit over your head, but I'll dumb it down for you."

The chill turned instantly to fire and Liz took an aggressive step forward. "Call me sweetheart again, you little—"

"Woh woh woh!" Tom shouted, stepping between them. "Fitz, don't be an asshole. Liz, I can vouch for his work. He's good."

"He could have been bought off." Tom looked at her like she'd lost her mind, but she kept going. "I want to see the chain of custody for the evidence. Where was it picked up, how was it delivered, how many people touched it between here and there and -?"

"Chain of custody?" Fitz demanded and turned an accusing look on Tom. "You brought a cop? Hell, Jake, I'd heard the rumours a few years ago, but when you popped back up I thought they were fake….. This her?"

"I don't know what that means," Tom snapped back and turned towards Liz, his voice tight. "I don't know what the hell's wrong with you, but Fitz is the best in the business. If he says this woman isn't your mother, she's not. _You_ wanted to come along. _You_ pushed. This isn't on him."

She turned on her heel without warning and stormed back up the stairs, ignoring him shouting after her, and didn't stop until she'd flown through the front door and out into the street. Only then did the tears come and Liz couldn't breathe. She tried, but all she could do was choke and sob and finally she squatted down on the sidewalk near where they'd parked to hope that it would pass. It was too much. It was all too much.

"Hey." Tom's voice was softer this time, but she didn't dare look back. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut and desperately tried to regain a semblance of control. She heard his boots on the concrete behind her and felt a hesitant hand on her arm as he squatted down to join her. "I'm… not sure what just happened," he confessed. "I don't…."

"Shut up," she managed and tilted so that she was leaned into him. His arms went around her in an instinctive manner and while he was stiff, he held her close. She turned to bury her face in the front of his shirt and held on.

"She's fine. Just got some bad news," she heard him tell a passerbyer and the person left them alone. After a long moment she felt his hand go to her hair, stroking it gently.

Liz pulled back a little and motioned for the car. She handed him the keys and he unlocked it, circling around to the driver's side and slipping inside. They sat there for a long moment, Liz still trying to catch her breath.

"You okay?" Tom finally ventured.

She cleared her throat, even if she didn't think it did much good. "I've been… my mother left me with my adopted father when I was four."

"Sam, right? You said his name was Sam?"

"Yeah, and he was great, but I've always… needed to know them. I thought Reddington was my father more than once. Even found a DNA test that proved it, but it turned out to be fake or… at least not him. I met my mother's husband too, but the DNA test that said he was my father was forged. I killed him."

"Your mother's husband?"

"No. My real father. I shot him when I was a kid. I'll never meet him again, never get to know him but I… had hoped…" She sucked in a shaky breath. "I needed it to be true when Maddy told me she'd come looking for me. That she chose me after everything. After losing everything, I needed…." She buried her face in her hands again and felt Tom reach out, his hand on her leg. She let one hand drop to cover his and held on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "What I said in there… Guess I was the ass, huh?"

"Yeah," she chuckled mirthlessly.

"I don't know what to tell you other than… you don't need her. Or him. I don't have to remember knowing you to see how strong you are. You don't need anyone."

"You," she managed, looking up at him through blurred vision and she saw him smile. "I need you."

"No. I've been gone, what? I guess more than two years now, huh? And you're still here. Still standing. You don't need me."

She squeezed his hand and this time the laugh felt more real. "Fine. I don't need you, but I want you."

"Why? I'm not the man you lost."

"Yeah you are."

He didn't look convinced. "You know facts, but you don't know me. _I_ don't even know me. I'm just… I play parts. It's my job, and I'm _really_ good at my job. I'm not even sure there is anything more to me than that."

Liz watched him for a long moment, trying to find the words to express how wrong he was. Tom didn't always have the words to express how deeply he felt, but the effort he gave in showing it was beyond what most people would ever know. There was a day she would have believed that he was nothing more than a shell of a man that was filled up by whatever part he was playing, but then he'd given up everything she thought was important to him - everything that had been important once - for her. He'd walked through those courtroom doors and what she thought and what she had watched played out collided in a confusing and tangled mess. From that moment forward he spent every moment proving his loyalty and she'd never known any other person to put her first in the way he had. He was right. She could survive without him, but she couldn't live. For that she needed him.

"You may not know you, but I do," she promised as she pulled his hand up to her lips and pressed a kiss to it. She found him staring at her with that awe-struck expression that she had to admit she'd missed. She'd asked him about it once and he'd ducked his head, cheeks a little flushed, and admitted that sometimes he had trouble believing how lucky he was. It was that same look now, and she wondered if she was giving him the same look. "Did your friend tell you anything else?"

"He didn't have a chance. I came after you right after you left. Anyway, Fitz isn't gonna stick his neck too far out for me. I think I burned some bridges when I left St Regis."

"Again."

"Apparently."

She tried for a smile. "We're going to need resources. Between your mystery employer and my fake mother we're going to get blindsided if we don't figure something out. Maddy didn't want me going to my team about this. She said it was too dangerous."

"For her, maybe. Sounds like, if she didn't want you to, maybe that's exactly where you should go. You trust them?"

"I do. And I'm tired of being told what to do with my own life."

"Let's get back to DC then. "

"Yeah." She ran her sleeve across her eyes, trying to dry them and turned to him as he started the car. "Tom… this is probably going to get dangerous."

"You giving me an out?"

"I don't want you to go, but if you want it… now's the time. Before we get in too deep."

"I think we're in this together." She nodded and he gave her a small, real smile. "Taking our lives back, right?"

"About damn time."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Insert dramatic music here.

Sooooooooo. A lot to unpack in this chapter. A lot. 

Anyone have any theories as to what it means?

 **Next Time** : Liz re-introduces Tom to her team and Red and Cooper discuss where it's all heading.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz re-introduces Tom to her team and Red and Cooper discuss where it's all heading.

**Chapter Ten**

When Liz had said that her team was a good resource for intel and backup, Jacob had assumed that had meant for her. He could take leads that she passed along and run them down in ways that a federal agent couldn't. He hadn't expected her to walk him into where she worked to speak to her team directly. At a federal black site. Below ground level with limited escape options. None of this was setting well, but she brushed off every argument that he made.

"They know you."

Jacob bristled at that even as he followed her into the lift that would take them down to what she called the War Room. "But I don't know them."

"You don't remember them. There's a difference." The doors squealed closed and she turned towards him. "I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."

"You know my line of work isn't exactly legal," he pointed out.

"They're not going to arrest you either. They know about St Regis."

Jacob turned to stare at her. "You told them?" he demanded.

"I think Reddington did? It just sort of became common knowledge in our circle after you got out and after… well once you and I figured things out."

The doors opened and Jacob fought the urge to run. What good would it do? He was stuck in a black site with a bunch of federal agents that knew he was a covert operative. Despite Liz's optimism, he had no idea how this could end well.

One of those agents looked up from his desk, eyes focused on Liz and started for them, talking the whole way. "Agent Keen! What's the news you couldn't share over… the… Holy crap. Tom?"

"Hey, Aram. Surprise," Liz offered with a struggling smile.

The other agent - Aram - stood there gaping. "How? When? Why didn't you…. you know what. It doesn't matter." Without warning he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jacob's neck. "You're alive."

Jacob jerked backward at the sudden contact, stiff and ready for a fight. It took a moment for his mind to process that Aram had hugged him. Why a fed was hugging him, he had no idea. All he knew was that he had no interest feeling any more contained than he already was in this place.

"He doesn't remember," Liz explained as Aram startled back, pulling his attention around.

"Doesn't remember… what?"

Liz pursed her lips together thoughtfully, gaze shifting towards the main part of the room. "Let's talk in Cooper's office."

It was surreal as Liz made introductions that her team didn't need. While he only recognized them from the file Tremblay had given him, they knew him. What's more, Aram wasn't the only one that seemed happy to see him. Cooper - an assistant director of the FBI - greeted him with a warm handshake and a promise to both of them to help get to the bottom of all of this. Ressler - one of Liz's partners and the one that had been with her the longest - was more awkward, but managed a quiet "welcome back." The only one without much to say was Park, but as far as Jacob had seen she'd joined the Task Force after his supposed death. She looked as confused by the whole interaction as he felt.

"Have you told Reddington?" Cooper asked, and there was something layered beneath the face value of the question.

"No," Liz murmured, "and for now, I'd like to keep this between us."

"I thought you trusted him," Park popped off.

"It's complicated. He and…. the woman I believed was my mother are locked in some sort of war, and until we find out why, I think my circle of trust extends to the people in this room."

Ressler turned to look at her. "Believed to be? What did I miss?"

"Tom's… employer hired him to protect me and he ran a DNA test on her. It was secure. She matched to Katarina Rostova, but there was no parental match with me."

A quiet settled over the group as they digested the new information before Cooper's gaze landed on Jacob. "The person that hired you must have known who you are."

Jacob pulled in a breath, steadying himself to open up to the feds. "Looks that way. All I have is an alias: Brigitte Tremblay. She's gone dark, though, soon as Liz and I ran across each other. She hadn't returned any of the calls."

"I can trace the number," Aram offered. "Might give us something."

"It's a place to start," Cooper agreed. "Aram, work with Tom to get any information he has that might get us a lead on Brigitte Tremblay. If she's slipped up in any way, I want you to use it to ID her. Ressler, Park, catch Keen up on what we uncovered on The Collector."

Jacob watched as Liz perked up at that. The name obviously meant something to her. "You found something with him?"

Park flashed her a grin. "More than something. It's good."

"Let's go." Liz started out the door, but paused, turning towards Jacob. He must have looked like a deer in the headlights for the way her expression softened and she reached out, her touch against his arm gentle. "I trust them. You can too. I promise."

"I've never known cops to have my back," he confessed softly. "Especially feds."

"Well this fed saved your life a few years ago and you still owe him a favour," Ressler chuckled, halfway out the door. "Don't think I'm not calling it in sooner or later now that you're back."

Liz smiled and let her hand drop. It brushed Jacob's and he felt a shiver pass through him. His fingers started to close, holding her hand there, but in the last second he stopped. She didn't, though, and her fingers closed around his, giving a reassuring squeeze and held his gaze.

"I trust you," he whispered and her lips quirked up.

"Don't let Aram get sidetracked with Doctor Who." One more quick squeeze and she was gone, following her partners out the door and down the stairs.

Jacob turned to Aram. "Like the British scifi show?"

"We totally marathoned the Fourth Doctor one time when we were waiting on some intel to come in a few years ago. There was the one where K-9…" He grinned sheepishly past Jacob at his boss. "Right… We can, uh, cover that some time when we're not trying to find the mystery woman that knows where you've been the last two and a half years. Of course. Just, uh… follow me. We'll get started."

Jacob nodded numbly, not bothering to correct him. He knew where he'd been the last two and a half years. It was the previous ten he was worried about.

* * *

"Before we get started," Park said as she paused at her work station, turning to look directly at Liz, "did you know? Because last I heard your husband had been brutally stabbed to death in a home invasion that turned out to be Federal Marshall after some secret of Reddington's. Didn't Cooper ID him?"

Liz did her best to push down the instinctive desire to go on the defensive at Park's tone. "I found out the night before last. He's been… trying to come to terms with the fact that he was married… had a family and a life that he doesn't even remember."

"Sounds rough."

"It has been. And yes, Cooper ID'd him."

"Not just that, but we all saw him flatline," Ressler pointed out. "Hell of an accomplishment to fake all of that."

"It is, but we've seen doubles before. Sinclair manages it pretty convincingly. Tom told me about a Russian-based program he came across during his time with Halcyon that surgically altered people to look like their targets. It does happen."

She didn't like the look Ressler gave her, almost like he thought she was stretching it.

"Yeah, but who would have those kinds of connections and resources to put it together so fast?" Park asked, shaking her head.

That, Liz had an answer to. One that had been battering around inside her mind since she saw Tom hanging in Katarina Rostova's warehouse, but she hadn't dared to admit out loud yet. "Scottie Hargrave."

Ressler blinked at that. "Tom's mom? Why would she?"

Liz risked a glance over to make sure Tom was distracted with Aram. "She has means and motive."

Ressler didn't look convinced. "Motive for faking his death?"

"If she thought it kept him safe, yeah. I could see it. She thrives on control and there was something…. strangely resolved when she took Agnes a coupe of years ago. She said she'd already mourned him once. I didn't… catch it then, but it was weird."

"That's screwed up," Park managed and Ressler snorted.

"Welcome to the Keen family drama."

Liz shook her head, unable to deny the statement. "Tell me what you guys found on the Collector."

Park lit up at that. "Michael Kowlaski was actually Viktor Petrov. While his paperwork says that he was American-born to Polish immigrants, the identity for Michael Kowlaski was farmed. All the paperwork, the credit history, everything was manufactured."

"Like a shelf company for a person," Liz murmured and Park nodded.

"Exactly like that."

"How did we get to the name Petrov?"

"Aram worked through the night going through photos linked to the Kowlaski ID," Ressler explained. "Cooper recognized one and was able to confirm that it was actually Victor Petrov, a KGB officer known for his intelligence work. Everything started to fall into place."

Liz leaned back against Park's desk. "Okay, so we've got the who and the why -"

"You mentioned that in the debrief," Park said. "The Sikorsky Archive. Petrov's last words. Do you know what it means?"

"All I know is what I've been told. It's a blackmail file that the woman that posed as my mother says she's being blamed for stealing and that she thinks Reddington knows who really has it."

"So another dead end?"

"No… maybe not. I had a PI follow Ilya Koslov -"

"Not Reddington, by the way," Ressler offered and Liz tried to ignore Park's confused look.

"- and she found that Koslov was obsessed with the Archive."

"So he's our next best lead?" Park asked, shaking the confusion from her expression.

"Seems to be." Liz closed her eyes, working through the pieces of the puzzle that made up this case. It was huge. Expansive. Pieces looked like they'd fit and then were part of a completely different puzzle altogether. This, though… she thought they were onto something with this. "The Collector always has two demands: a new secret to carry on and a favour. I know we recovered a jumpdrive on him. Has Aram cracked that yet?"

Ressler shook his head. "He's still working on it, but I think that's what had him here all night. His program's cracked pieces."

"It's German… Something about Bonn, but other than that, we don't know yet," Park agreed.

Liz risked another glance over to Aram and Tom, the tech genius looking like he was in the middle of a long-winded explanation of something that probably could have been said a fraction of the words he was using. Tom, to his credit, was patiently nodding along that he was following. The two had always gotten along well, so it was good to see that even with his missing memories Tom was able and willing to listen through.

"Then I say we focus on Ilya," Liz finally said.

Ressler quirked a ginger eyebrow. "Hasn't he gone into hiding?"

"We'll find him," Liz answered confidently. "We have to."

Park shifted where she was. "If Rostova isn't your mother and Reddington isn't… whatever the latest thing you thought he was… why?"

Liz pursed her lips, working through each word as she let them fall. "Because Reddington used us to get to here. He used us to get to The Collector to kill him. He tried to steer me away from this woman, but he never gave me a clear reason why. He uses us, and just once, I'd like to have more pieces of the puzzle than he does."

There was a moment of silence between the three partners before Ressler nodded. "Okay. Let's find Koslov."

"Uh, guys?" Aram called over. "Mr Cooper just called down. Mr Reddington is supposed to be coming by with intel on The Collector. I know you said…"

"Guess that's my queue to leave," Tom said and his gaze shifted around to Liz. "How about this: give me a lead to track down on this Koslov guy and I'll start in on the groundwork."

"Tom…"

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. "I promise I'll come back. Here, gimme your phone?" He reached a hand out and she held it out to him. He punched in a number. "Saved just above the pizza delivery guy."

Liz found herself echoing the smile. "Good. Let's get you out of here."

* * *

They walked a thin line with Reddington. That wasn't new, and for the most part Cooper had reconciled himself to it. There was give and take. He gave them terrible people that needed to be taken off the streets and that they wouldn't have had access to without him. In return, he took what he wanted. Sometimes it was a piece of information or access, and then sometimes the price was higher. Sometimes he used them in ways that Cooper found very difficult to see as anything but a betrayal to the very woman that Reddington had surrendered himself for. His actions had forced her into more compromising positions, put people she loved at risk, and consistently left her in the dark on issues that directly affected her without even a hope that he'd reveal the answers to her someday.

Despite all Reddington had done - and for every veiled motive, every secret he had kept about Elizabeth's past, he had quite literally saved her life and career time and time again - Cooper couldn't blame Elizabeth for not wanting to offer up the fact that Tom was alive. Reddington's secrets had, they had thought, cost her husband his life two and a half years before. He was alive, but far from whole, and her wish to protect him from the chaos that Reddington brought into her life was understandable. It was the reason that Cooper had given them a good headstart before calling Reddington into the Post Office.

Reddington didn't like being summoned, that much was clear. He helped them at his leisure and on his terms, despite the fact that, theoretically, he worked for them, but that afternoon Cooper had no patience for his antics. He'd used them to lure a Blacklister out and, when Cooper had refused to hand him over blindly, Reddington had had him shot down in the street.

It was nearly time for Cooper to pack it up and call it a night when Reddington finally strolled into the Post Office with a reminder that he's not at the FBI's beck and call, even though his immunity agreement did have some wording that leaned heavily in that direction. He continued on and on, casually taking a seat across from Cooper with his hat in his hand and Dembe lingering at the door. Cooper lost track of exactly what the point of the story was, but it had something to do with a woman from Beijing that he'd met while smuggling political refugees out of the country. By the time the story wound down, Cooper had already had to send Charlene an apologetic text and a promise to pick up dinner of her choosing on his way home.

"I'm sorry, Harold, was there a reason you called me in when I should be at Marcel's having the most exquisite Lobster Timbale that I've ever tasted?"

"Victor Petrov," Cooper said simply, not bothering to point out that if Reddington had come when he'd called that he could have been out long before his reservations.

"Ah," their often complicated CI managed. "You've put a name to the legend."

"I'm not going to waste both our times asking you exactly what you thought you'd keep Elizabeth from finding out about her mother," he stated firmly, "but I do need to know what Petrov was trying to move through Mr Krause. Aram's working on the encryption, but so far we've only gotten pieces. You said that Petrov was connected to the Cabal."

"He was," Reddington answered, his voice serious now.

"I'm not a fool. We may have decimated their stronghold in the United States, but my guess is that they have a further reach. You handed us this Blacklister and so far, without details of what was being transferred, we've gotten nothing from it other than a dead former KGB operative and another dead end." He paused, taking a risk. "Does Bonn mean anything to you?"

"Is that Krause's final destination?"

"We believe so."

Reddington tilted his head to the side and Cooper straightened his spine. He was already asking for less than they'd been promised on this. Finally, the other man relented. "I already suspected that Petrov had re-aligned himself with his old allies in the Cabal. If he's orchestrating deliveries to Bonn, then it's not just a smaller faction he's trying to reach out to."

"How many factions are you aware of?"

Reddington sighed, and for a moment Cooper thought he was going to try to slip around this. Apparently it wasn't worth the effort. "Originally? Many, but there were key players housed in the United States, Russia, China, and two in Germany: one for the East and another for the West."

"So Petrov was trying to make contact with one of the factions in Germany?"

"There's only one left. With the fall of communism in Germany, the Cabal lost its foothold in Berlin. Bonn is all that's left, but Harold -" he caught Cooper's gaze and held it, and in that moment his voice was deadly serious - "if this is more than an attempt to make contact, if the faction in Bonn is using someone like Petrov to move information Stateside, this is bigger than either of us could have assumed."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have killed the man with the answers then."

"What's done is done. Aram _must_ crack that encryption and he must do so quickly."

"Or what?"

"If we wait to find out, it will already be too late."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : ** _insert dramatic music here_ ** 

I feel bad for poor Tom right now. Everybody in this story knows more than him and he's just not okay with that. 

**Next Time** : When Tom's search for Ilya continues to run into dead ends, Liz takes matters into her own hands.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tom's search for Ilya continues to run into dead ends, Liz takes matters into her own hands.

It had been three days since they had parted ways. Nearly twenty-four hours into the first day she had finally worked up the courage to try the number he'd left for her. It was silly to think he'd give her a fake number. There was no point in it, but every night since she had walked into that warehouse to find him strung up by his wrists with Tolliver's man beating the hell out of him, Liz had wondered if maybe she had finally cracked. If her mind was so tired of fighting it all alone that it had worked up a way to convince her she didn't have to. If the man that had shown up at her door drenched from the rain was nothing more than a ghost. The longer that she went without seeing him or speaking to him, the more the irrational fear crept in.

Tom had answered though. He'd been distracted and a little snippy - clear signs that he was deep into whatever he was doing - but he had answered. They hadn't spoken long, but the sound of his voice had helped to ease some of those darker fears back into the shadows. She slept that night. Not well, but at least she slept.

Liz tried to focus on her own case. The situation with Petrov was worse than they'd thought. Reddington believed that he was linked to the Cabal as well as the KGB. He was tight-lipped about the details, but whatever he'd told Cooper was enough to convince their boss that it should be top priority. He wasn't saying that who Tolliver was or what had happened to Tom's memories weren't important questions to ask, nor was he telling them to drop the research into the Sikorsky Archive, but national security came first, and when the Cabal was involved they all knew how dangerous life could get.

"I think Tolliver can be useful."

She could almost feel Ressler swivel to give her the _have-you-lost-it_ look. "She's not who you thought she was."

"So? Neither was Reddington and he's pretty damn useful most days."

"You're not playing Reddington," Park stated and Ressler turned the quirked eyebrow on her. He was going to get stuck that way if he wasn't careful. Park held her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, but there's a difference in not telling him everything and letting Tolliver think she still has you fooled."

"She lied first," Liz argued.

"I'm not saying it's wrong, I'm just saying it's dangerous. I mean, I may not have been here nearly as long as the two of you, but I know the name Katarina Rostova. I knew the kind of stuff that they say she was responsible for. If Tolliver _is_ Rostova, but _isn't_ your mom, then you're playing with fire."

"Just another day in the life," Liz sighed. "She knows about this man though. More than Cooper does and more than Reddington will admit to. I'm in her confidence, and if I read her further into this -"

"You may end up jeopardizing the case," Ressler pointed out.

"You think she's Cabal?"

"I think we don't know what she is," Ressler grumbled as he took a heavy seat into a chair at an unoccupied desk in the War Room where they'd gathered around. "Park's got a point."

"Thank you." She turned to look directly at Liz, the levity of her tone sliding out of her expression. "I'm just saying, maybe you shouldn't go alone."

"She doesn't know either of you. I'm not sure I want her to."

"So take your husband," Park offered with a shrug. "She knows his face, knows his connection, and he's less of a threat legally."

"It would make it easier to explain," Ressler agreed, almost like he hated admitting it.

Liz sighed. "He's tracking down Ilya."

Ressler pushed a frustrated sounding breath out through his nose. "It'd give you an excuse, Keen. Call him."

She looked over to find both partners staring at her expectantly. "I can't. I promised him that I'd help him get his memories back, but Orchard hasn't even called me back. I can't leave her another message, but if I ask Tom to help me with another thing that has nothing to do with that…."

"He'll do it," Aram said from his place a desk over, not bothering to look up from his screen. Well, obviously he wasn't funneling music through his earbuds like he looked like he was. Finally he turned to look at her, and Liz couldn't help but see some of the heartbreak behind the mask he was trying to wear, and while part of it had to do with the whole Elodie debacle, she'd put money that Elodie wasn't the one at the forefront of his mind right then. "He loves you. Any idiot can see it, even without his memories. He can't stop looking at you when you look away and he just…. He'll do it if you ask."

"Do you trust him?"

Liz turned back to Ressler. "You know I do."

"Then if we can't be there, have some backup you trust. Play it smart."

She looked between the three of them for a long moment, at war with herself. She shouldn't be though. She knew she shouldn't be. They were right. She reached for the phone and hit the speed dial.

* * *

He didn't like it. It wasn't the fact that Liz had called. Strange as it was, he lit up every time he received a message from her. It was like a weight he hadn't realized was pressing down on him was lifted and he could breathe again. Her voice soothed him. It cleared his head. It was funny. He'd always thought love was a lie that people told each other to keep some weird hope alive that it was true. They'd describe it and someone else would say that that was exactly how they felt, and somehow the lie would keep going a little while longer. Maybe it wasn't all a lie, though, because while Jacob couldn't remember this woman, she stirred up the strangest feelings in him that he wasn't aware he was capable of. Hell, he'd been told he wasn't capable for more years than he could remember.

It wasn't the fact that she'd called that put him on edge, it was why. Tolliver. The woman had found his surveillance far too quickly and they didn't know what kind of reach she had or intel she could have gathered. Before her connection with Liz might have protected them both, but the instant that she knew that Liz knew the truth - that this woman wasn't her mother - their usefulness would dry up and they'd be targets.

There were too many unknowns and they were walking straight into them. He wasn't going to let her do it alone though.

"Usually she has me meet her in some remote location or another," Liz murmured as they entered the highrise office building and started for the elevator. "This is weird."

Jacob shrugged. "Not really. There are a lot of vacant office spaces right now. Play your cards right and no one knows you're there."

She turned, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "You know from experience?"

"I really shouldn't admit that to a fed," he murmured, echoing her smile.

Liz leaned in as the elevator doors closed, her fingers brushing his. On an instinct he couldn't explain he took her hand, their fingers closing around each other. It was a strange feeling that swept through him. One that told him he wasn't alone in this chaos anymore. He didn't want to leave her alone in it either.

The doors opened on an upper level and they took the stairs the rest of the way up to the top level. The door to the floor was locked and Liz knocked a pattern and took a step back to wait. After a long moment the door opened to reveal the man that Liz referred to as Simms on the other side. His distrustful gaze swept Jacob up and down, his lips tilting down at a little as it did. "She told you to come alone."

"He's good." Simms didn't look convinced and Liz squared her shoulders. "She may not know him, but I do. He's my husband. My _family_. If she trusts me, she trusts him."

Jacob kept his expression even, but he couldn't ignore the strange, fluttering feeling inside his chest. While Tolliver shouldn't trust either of them any more than they trusted her at that moment, he believed the rest of it. He wasn't sure he knew how to be someone's family or to be deserving of the trust she'd already shown in him.

"Let them in, Simms," Tolliver called from inside. "You know that I trust Elizabeth's judgement. She's proven that she's on my side."

There was something eerie about the way she said it, and as they moved further into the open office space where she'd set up her research, the way she looked at them only intensified his initial reaction. It was like there was an unspoken warning at the end of it. No, not a warning. A threat. _She knows what will happen if she's not_.

"I'm keeping my team away from you," Liz lied, "but I need your help. We're hitting a dead end with the Collector. All we have is the name."

"Petrov," Tolliver confirmed and Liz nodded.

"What do you know about him? Did you ever run across him in the KGB? Connected with the Cabal…?"

Tolliver's eyes narrowed and Jacob resisted the urge to step closer to Liz. "Why do you think he's connected with the Cabal? Something Raymond said?" She tilted her chin up and gave a short, mirthless laugh. "He does know how to pull the FBI's strings, doesn't he? Is that why he's saying he had him killed?"

"I think we both know why he had him killed," Liz said.

Jacob watched Liz as she held the older woman's gaze, and as she spoke he had to admit he was impressed. She was subtle in the way she steered the direction, using information they'd clearly talked about - information the other woman wanted - to get Tolliver where she wanted her to go.

"His secret. Whatever it is… my guess is that it has to do with the Archive. I know you don't trust my team, and I get that, but if you know anything that can help us get out in front of Reddington on this we can use it to find who really stole the intel."

And if Jacob were to put money on it, his bet was that Tolliver bought it. It was the best sign he could have spotted that she wasn't onto them. Nothing had changed for her. It looked like Liz still thought she was helping her mother, even as she was funnelling all of those feelings of betrayal that he'd seen overwhelm her a few days before into the act. Liz was the one in control.

Tolliver's gaze slid over to Jacob. "You've been looking for someone. Who?"

"You following me?"

"You're in my daughter's life and she wants to trust you without any proof that you're still the man she knew. Of course I'm having you followed."

"He's looking for Ilya. For me," Liz stated firmly, drawing the woman's attention back around.

"You said he was gone."

"That doesn't mean we can't find him. If he knows something about the Archive, he could be our best lead." She squared her shoulders a little. "But if you know something, we can use that."

"Petrov helped piece together part of the Archive. He..." Her voice trailed off as one of her people entered the alcove they were standing in and spoke quietly in her ear. "Really? Well then."

Jacob shot Liz a questioning look and she returned it with a small shrug. "What were you saying about Petrov?"

"Petrov will have to wait," Tolliver answered, her expression unreadable. "Someone's continued where you left off, Mr Keen."

He didn't like the sound of that, but Tolliver motioned for them to follow. He looked to Liz who gave the barest of nods. They had to risk it. If they didn't, they would tip their hand.

* * *

Tolliver liked playing things close to the chest, but this didn't feel right. If the look Tom was giving her was anything to go by, he felt the same way. The good thing was that they were in an office building. Presumably there were other tenants that would hear a gunshot or the shouts that would accompany a fight.

Or not.

They followed Tolliver into an adjacent office to see a man bound to a chair. He was beaten and bloodied, but Liz recognized the man that Tom had called Fitz. The man he'd tasked to run Tolliver's DNA. This was not good.

One of Tolliver's men moved to block their exit the way they had come in and Sims reached a hand out for their weapons, his gun trained on Tom.

"Do as he asks, Elizabeth, and you won't make me put you through watching your husband bleed out in front of you all over again," Tolliver said, her voice calm.

"You shoot one of us, someone's going to hear," Tom pointed out.

Tolliver huffed. "Seven full floors below us are empty. So is the building across the way there. No one will see you and no one will hear you, so I would suggest you provide Simms with your weapons and be on your best behaviour." Her gaze remained cold as she watched both of them surrender their guns. "Mr Fitz here provided some very interesting information to my people. He ran my DNA. That much I knew until just a few moments ago when he gave up the name."

"I'm sorry, Jake. It was you or me," Fitz managed from where he was and gave an audible shutter as Tolliver laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Still might be you," Tom growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"Or you," Tolliver answered him. "That really depends on Elizabeth." Her gaze shifted to Liz and the younger woman straightened, tilting her chin up. "I thought we had trust between us. What changed?"

"You used me," Liz said lowly.

"Like you were about to use me. Like Reddington used me. Like _she_ did." Tolliver was calm for all the venom in her voice.

"Your trust has obviously run out. What now? You gonna kill a fed? You think it's bad having the Townsend Directive after you, you'll have the full weight of the FBI and Reddington on top of that if you touch either of us."

"Tom will depend on you, but as for you, you're no good to me dead," Tolliver said thoughtfully. "She'll come for you. I thought I'd need Raymond to lure her out, but she's already setting the board. Not for him. For you. She'll come."

"What are you talking about?" Liz asked, her tone uncertain. "Who?"

Tolliver's response, if they could expect one, was cut short by the sound of something small breaking through the thick, floor-to-wall windows at the far side of the room. Sims crumbled instantly and before Tolliver's other goon could do anything, a second shot took him out, leaving only the Keens, the trembling Fitz, and Tolliver who slowly raised her hands up in surrender.

Tom's cell phone buzzed loudly in his jeans.

"I'd suggest you get that," Tolliver said, her tone more resolved than anything else.

Liz's eyes narrowed and she started for the window to find the holes that had been punched through the glass. Behind her she heard Tom answer, his voice gruff and then surprised as he said, "It's for you," and handed the phone over to Tolliver. Liz saw the reflection behind her, but focused on the general trajectory that the bullets would have had to follow to hit their targets.

"I knew it was you. You're the only one he'd protect. That they'd _all_ protect," Tolliver hissed into the phone and Liz finally saw the figure two stories above their own in the building across the way. She could make out a woman there dressed in all black with her hair either cropped short or pulled back. She was set up with a sniper rifle. If she was the one on the other end of the phone, she must have been on bluetooth.

"And now you're exposed," Tolliver continued. "It doesn't matter if you -"

Liz saw the signal - a flash of a light on top of the rifle - and she lunged away from the window, hitting the ground as the bullet broke through the window at a new angle. She rolled, looking to Tolliver who was standing there. Crimson quickly blossomed across her beige blouse from the wound in her chest and the phone slipped from her fingers. She looked to Liz. "She'll never give you the answers you need."

The second shot struck her again and she fell to the floor, blue eyes wide and unseeing. Liz was on her feet, diving for the dropped phone and somewhere behind her she heard Tom call out her name. No further shots were fired, but when she got to the phone the line was already dead.

Liz knelt there for a long moment next to Tolliver's dead body, phone in hand, and trembling. She squeezed her eyes closed and struggled to breathe. Everything was folding in itself and a single thought broke through:

 _You missed your chance_.

Tolliver was dead. She had had answers and now she was dead.

"Liz?" She jumped as Tom's hand gently touched her arm. "We gotta go. We can't be here when they find the bodies."

She nodded, desperately still trying to get enough breath into her lungs to be useful. "What about…" Her voice trailed off as she looked over to see Fitz. One of the bullets must have passed straight through Tolliver and struck him. He was slumped to the side, still bound to the chair and dead.

"Not our problem anymore," Tom said quietly and pressed her firearm into her hand. "C'mon."

Liz let him help her up. There was nothing to tie them to this. No cameras in the stairwells or the elevator, no one left to point fingers. All that was left were questions. So many questions. They were in the car before Tom loosed a long breath and she noticed his hands were shaking too. "You okay?"

"It was her."

"Who?"

"The voice. On the phone. It was the woman that hired me. Brigitte Tremblay. She killed Tolliver."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : And again with the need for dramatic music. It's like I like cliffhangers or something.

Well that was a wild ride, huh? Blonde Kat is gone and the woman that hired Tom to inch him back into Liz's life is responsible. Thoughts? Theories? Concerns for chaos ahead? ;)

 **Next Time** : Tom and Ressler end up on a stakeout with Aram and Tom comes face-to-face with Brigitte Tremblay.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Ressler end up on a stakeout with Aram and Tom comes face-to-face with Brigitte Tremblay.

Liz's call to the Post Office found them neck deep into a lead that had broken while she and Tom had been dodging bullets. They had found Petrov's safe house and moved in quickly, uncovering the treasure trove that Reddington had promised with The Collector. Ressler, Park, and Aram were all still there when Liz and Tom stepped out of the lift and into the War Room. They used the time to search what they could for entry and exits on the building that Brigitte Tremblay had shot from, hoping for a break of their own.

"I'm telling you, this woman's a pro," Tom said as he motioned to the single photo they'd found. It was grainy, triggered by a car flying through a red light, but even if Aram cleaned it up it wouldn't do any good. All they could see was the bill of her cap shading her face from view.

The lift sounded, drawing their attention, and Liz's three partners trudged their way in. Ressler spotted her first. "Cooper said that Tolliver's dead?"

She let a breath out on a sigh. "It's been a long day."

Park set her things down on her desk. "Any leads on who killed her?"

"Yes and no. We think it was the woman who hired Tom, but this is the best photo we have of her." Liz swiveled the computer screen around to show what she and Tom had been looking at.

Aram visibly cringed. "Nothing else?"

"No, and I need to go pick up Agnes from her friend's house."

"I'll keep looking," Tom offered. "I have a couple of contacts. It's a long shot, but —"

"No."

He blinked hard, a sign she knew well of him resetting. "Why?"

"Because she's been using you. We have no idea if she's going to try to tie up loose ends or what she's doing."

"I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself," he promised.

Liz looked past him at her team that was trying to look busy with anything else to give them what little privacy the War Room could afford and she let the honest answer roll off her tongue before she could talk herself out of it. "I'm scared. I've lost you too many times. I can't do it again."

She watched his expression soften at that and his hand twitched at his side, almost like he was about to reach for her. "So now what?"

"I just need to know you're safe."

"Okay…" he drawled out. "I can't exactly crash on your couch with the kid there."

Liz looked past him, her gaze sweeping the space. She couldn't just leave him there. It'd be safe, sure, but Cooper would never go for it and Tom would feel like a prisoner. With everything going on she needed him safe, but she needed to keep his trust too. She knew he was desperate and clinging to any hope that she could help him remember. The last thing she wanted was to somehow spark that instinct he had to run. Asking him to let her lock him away in a government bunker might just do it.

"I got a couch."

Both Keens turned to Ressler who shrugged. "What?"

"Are you offering?" Liz asked skeptically as Tom said:

"Yeah, that's really not necessary, man."

Ressler quirked an eyebrow. "Alternative is putting a cot in one of the holding cells."

"Or just finding my own place to crash and reconvening tomorrow," Tom countered.

"Listen," Ressler said as he stepped towards them and Liz didn't miss the way Tom drew himself up a little taller. "Just an offer. For Liz. Otherwise she'll be stressing out over you and she won't be good to any of us when we have to hit the ground running tomorrow."

She caught her partner's gaze briefly. She owed him. Hell, she owed him more favours than she could count by this point.

Tom's shoulders sagged just a little and he turned back to Liz. "One night."

"Thank you." She had to stop herself from tipping forward and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Instead she reached forward and her hand squeezed his before releasing. "I need to go pick up Agnes. Ressler..."

"I'll add it to the list," he huffed and she tried for a smile.

"Thank you. I'll see you guys in the morning."

She turned and started for the door.

* * *

It had been a long day for everyone. Tom finished filling them in on the details of the chaos and Ressler found himself shaking his head. Somewhere along the way this had become normal, or at least expected. With the spies and secrets that could get you killed and people that had been dead for years popping up with a decade's worth of memories missing, it was a wonder they hadn't all lost it yet. If Park's reaction was anything to go by, maybe they all should have run from it by this point.

For that moment, though, he was looking forward to a shower and his bed. Somehow he and Tom were the last ones out.

"Let me grab my keys and we'll head out," Ressler called over and Tom looked up from the computer he'd been given limited access to in order to research Tremblay. He shifted, his expression careful and his gaze steady like he was looking for something.

"Listen," he said slowly and nothing about his tone instilled any confidence that Ressler was going to like what came next, "I get Liz is… worried. I guess. From what she's filled me in on we've been through a lot."

"Understatement," Ressler muttered as he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair it had been draped over.

"But with everything that's going on…. she could be in danger too. I'm not just gonna sit around."

"You just said you understood that she's worried about you," Ressler pointed out.

"Right, so if she thinks I crashed at your place she won't be. Everybody wins." Tom flashed what Ressler was sure he thought was a charming smile, but it reminded him of the days when he wanted nothing more than to take a swing at that smug look. Sometimes he had.

"You want me to lie to her?"

Tom's expression shifted to confusion. "Well… yeah. So she doesn't worry. She's got enough on her plate right now."

Ressler snorted and shook his head. If it weren't so idiotic it might have been funny. Was this really how Tom's brain worked the entirety of his and Liz's first marriage? No wonder she'd shot him. He took a beat, pulled a breath in, and tried to curb the sarcasm as he spoke. "Listen, pal, I get you didn't see what she went through when she lost you, but I did. It destroyed her. That woman - the one that you're just trying to placate right now - hasn't been the same since. I don't wanna see her go through that again, so if I have to lock you in the box to make you keep your promise to her tonight, I'll do it. Happily."

"What box?"

Ressler smirked and watched Tom's expression grow a little more worried. "You can sleep locked up here or you can crash on my couch. Only two options."

The other man watched him carefully as if he were trying to gauge just how far Ressler was willing to take this. Finally he relented. "Couch it is."

"Thought so."

The drive to Ressler's apartment was tense and quiet, Tom looking like he was just waiting for his opening to do what he wanted to despite Ressler's threats. He reminded the agent of the asshole fresh out of captivity on the boat that had been looking for any angle he could work. It had been so long since Ressler had seen him in that light, but for Tom, he was still in that mindset. As much as the older man hated to admit it, he didn't know any better.

Ressler unlocked the front door to his apartment and motioned for Tom to enter. "You hungry?" he asked, giving civility another try.

"I think I'm just gonna crash. Get an early start tomorrow." He tossed his go-bag onto the couch. "You got a shower I can use?"

"Yeah. Just through there," Ressler said as he motioned towards the bathroom. "Hey?" he called out, stopping Tom midway. "I know you don't remember and I don't know what all she's told you, but I'm gonna give you a piece of advice."

"Pretty sure I didn't ask for it,"

"Don't lie to Liz."

Tom snorted. "I get that you're a cop and you've got this whole —"

"This isn't about me. It's about her. And you. You spent your first marriage manipulating and lying to her because you thought you could run the board and get everything you wanted. It ended with Liz in a really dark place and you with a couple rounds through you. After all of this, she doesn't deserve to have to be put through you figuring it out again."

Tom's dark blue eyes were fixed on him and there was a hint of danger in them, his tone careful as he spoke. "I don't know what you want from me, man."

"I'm just trying to help you both. Be honest with her. It'll save you both a lot of pain." At that he turned, disappearing into his room and hoping Tom would be there in the morning.

* * *

He wasn't sure what he had missed. Liz said she knew him, and she knew enough that he couldn't help but believe her, so why wouldn't she _expect_ this? She must know that he needed results, that that drove him. He needed somewhere to focus his energy. If he was working for Tremblay or not, his job was to keep her safe. He couldn't do that without answers, and he couldn't wait for play dates and workdays to wrap up to get those. He didn't hold that against her, but in the same way surely she didn't hold that against him. It had to be more of a way to protect herself rather than a real expectation. At least that's what he'd assumed before Ressler's whole lecture.

The shower did nothing to provide any clarity, but by the time Jacob emerged, steam following him out the door, he found a pillow and some blankets on the couch for him. Ressler's door was shut and the light was off inside. Well, at least he didn't have to work his way through any further conversation. The best remaining option was to try to get some sleep.

His mind was spinning as he shut his eyes, dozens of images and thoughts colliding together. Somewhere along the way he must have slipped a little deeper and it was like being dropped in a room filled with people. He could hear the constant chatter of voices that he didn't recognize talking about things that didn't make sense, and he could feel his anxiety spike as he tried to cover for his obvious lack of intel. Everything he said was wrong and he knew it. They knew it too, and the more he screwed up the worse it got.

Finally, for the first time, a voice he recognized broke through. Liz. It was Liz. Her name left his lips and it was like he'd banished all the other voices, the figures evaporating like ghosts and he was left standing alone in the center of a large room he didn't recognize. He turned, looking for her, and called out again. She answered and he started towards the voice.

Red and blue lights filled the interior space, but no sirens accompanied it. The only sounds Jacob could make out were Liz calling his name and the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest. He opened door after door, but she wasn't there. It was like her voice shifted, always out of reach, and he couldn't fight the overwhelming feeling that if he didn't find her now, he might never see her again.

" _Liz_!" His voice echoed through the empty hallways and he rounded to another closed door, throwing it open.

And there she stood, dressed in white with her hair trimmed short. Instead of the red and blue lights flashing he could hear the sound of the waves and see the sunset from the balcony behind her. She smiled, relieved. "You came."

"I've been looking all over for you," he managed, crossing the space between them.

Her smile broadened, but even though he was moving further into the room it felt like he was running in place. He reached out to her and there was a bright light that flashed. The sunset behind her disappeared and the flashing lights returned. He could see blood in her hair now and she met his eyes. "Tell Agnes about me."

"What?" he managed, but she was gone. It was as if she simply flashed out of existence with the lights and Jacob couldn't breathe. "Liz? _Liz_!"

"Tom?"

Dark blue eyes snapped open and Jacob was halfway to sitting before he realized he was no longer in the strange, shifting place that was becoming more and more shrouded with each passing second. He was pulling air into his lungs in painful gulps, the strain sending him hunching forward over his knees.

"You need a trash can? Because I really don't want you puking on my couch."

Jacob turned to find Donald Ressler squatted down next to the couch, his expression not quite irritated. It wasn't worried either. From what Jacob could tell in the dimly lit living room it looked a little closer to understanding. "I'm good."

"Nightmare?"

"What gave me away?" He swallowed hard, feeling the painful scratch all the way down. "You got, uh…."

"Water?"

"Yeah."  
Ressler disappeared for just a moment before returning with a glass of tap water. He handed it over and Jacob took a long sip from it.  
"Liz said that the doctors you saw after… everything said there was no sign of head trauma. If someone intentionally manipulated your memories -"

Jacob turned quickly, regretting the sharp moment in an instant, but he did his best to cover it. "How - or why - would someone do that?"

The fed snorted, shrugging as he stood again. "There's a process that people are trained in that can manipulate and… hide memories. Didn't Liz say anything about it?"

Jacob leaned back, listening to the other man rummage around his kitchen. "There's a lot of ground to cover in what I'm missing."

"Fair." He returned, a box of what was probably cold pizza in one hand and a couple of beers in the other. He set it all down on the coffee table and took a seat in the chair next to it, opening the pizza box. He glanced at Jacob. "If the nausea's passed, feel free to grab a slice."

Jacob swung his legs over the edge of the couch so that he was sitting up fully and took Ressler up on the offer. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was. Halfway through the second bite he risked a look at him. "People can screw with your memories?"

"In our experience, yeah. We've run into it a few times. Liz had some memories buried from when she was a kid and I, uh…. I had someone manipulate mine to get me to do something I wouldn't normally have done."

"Is there someone that would have? My memories, I mean."

Ressler loosed a breath and reached over to one of the beers, popping the top off of it. "A couple options," he said slowly. "Liz is leaning one direction, I'm wondering about another."

"And those are?"

"You need to talk to her about that." He motioned to the beer and the pizza box. "I had a lot of nightmares after they scrambled my brain like an egg. After the nausea was done, this helped ease the nerves."

"Thanks," Jacob huffed and took the second beer. Definitely not how he expected the night to go. "You ever…. get back what they took from you?"

Ressler's expression darkened and he reached for a second slice. "They didn't really take as much as they put stuff in there that didn't belong."

"I just have this massive, gaping blank," Jacob found himself saying. "There's nothing. It's like I went to bed one night and woke up ten years later."

"Hell of a thing to wake up to."

"You're telling me. I had scars I didn't recognize, nobody would tell me how I'd been hurt…. Guess that part makes more sense now. Gina…. Someone I work with -"

"I know who she is," Ressler answered and there was a hint of spite in his voice.

Jacob huffed a laugh. "She made it sound like it'd just been any other job that did it. She lied. I know that now. I shouldn't…. I shouldn't trust Liz - or you people - but she knows too much to be making it up."

"She loves you," Ressler said firmly. "I meant what I said about how she took thinking you were dead. It was hell for her."

"I wanna remember."

"Good. She needs you to."

Jacob took a long drink from his beer and his phone buzzed on the table. He reached for it, brows drawing together as he looked at the text.

"What?"

"It's Tremblay."

"The woman that hired you?"

"Yeah."

"What'd she say?"

"She wants to meet." Jacob could feel Ressler watching him. "I should go. We might not get another chance."

"Did you get nothing from our conversation earlier?" Ressler groused.

Jacob's lips quirked up at one corner, tilting them into a lopsided smile. "Liz is worried about me going at it alone, but I've got backup now. If you've got a camera, I can lure her out and you can grab a shot. We may be able to find out who she is."

Ressler watched him for a long moment. "I don't, but I know someone with the equipment we need."

* * *

Aram hadn't expected a call at three in the morning, much less a call asking him what kind of surveillance equipment he could dig up then and there. It took a couple rounds of explanation before his sleep deprived mind was able to piece together that Tom's mystery employer had made contact and that Ressler was going with Tom to the meet. Did Liz know? They should probably call Liz…. she was really worried about Tom doing this without her.

She wouldn't have anyone to watch Agnes at that hour and they needed to move quickly. Their window was closing. It was fine. Her biggest concern was going at it alone, and he wasn't. He now had not one but two federal agents to watch his back.

Aram had forgotten how effortlessly smooth Tom was when he wanted something, but at least Ressler had been quick to say that they'd let Liz know first thing the next morning and they would have Tom's back. Okay. He could get behind that.

That's how he found himself sitting in the back of Ressler's Bureau-issued SUV a block away from the meet with the only the surveillance equipment that he'd been able to get his hands on at that hour of the morning. The sound quality was a little iffy on the watch they had fitted Tom with, but it was better than nothing. It wasn't like they'd be able to get the permission to patch into any CCTV feeds to get live visuals.

Ressler shifted in his place across from Aram. "You have everything up and running?"

"I do. We can hear him, but it's only one way." He handed Ressler a headset to listen through and frowned a little. "Is it… weird?"

"Liz's husband coming back from the dead without any memory of her? Yeah, it's weird."

"Okay, good, because with everything we see sometimes it's hard to tell." Aram reached over to check one of his feeds, but risked a glance out of the corner of his eye to watch Ressler's reaction. The other man sighed and ran his hand through his surprisingly ungelled hair. Well, it had been in the middle of the night when all of this had been kicked into action. He looked tired.

"It's weird," he confirmed again quietly. "But you're right. Sometimes it's easy to lose perspective on that. We've seen more crazy since Reddington turned himself in than I would have ever believed possible."

"I mean, I guess that's good though, right? Maybe it means we can find a way to get his memories back. Liz…. Liz deserves to be happy." After everything they'd all been through, at least one of them did.

Ressler made a small sound of acknowledgement, but didn't get the chance to say anything else as Tom signaled that they were a go.

* * *

He was meeting her in the warehouse district at half past five in the morning. Limited visuals, audio equipment that Aram had been struggling to get to work, and a delay in backup that could cost him his life if things went south. He may have shrugged off the risk as minuscule, but it was a good thing Liz wouldn't know about this until after it was done.

Jacob pulled in a deep breath and felt the cool night air rush down into his lungs to help clear his sleep deprived mind. The urgency of the meet had been a bit of a surprise, following up only hours after Brigitte Tremblay had taken out Tolliver in her pointed fashion, and it could either be a good or bad sign. He didn't think there was much of an in between there. All he could do was hold onto the fact that, from her vantage point, she could have easily taken either him or Liz out if that had been her goal. Instead she had saved their lives. The only casualty other than Tolliver's men had been Fitz, and Jacob wasn't crying too much over that little traitor.

He didn't visibly tense at the small sound behind him signalled her approach but he turned to meet those sharp blue eyes. An almost playful smile tilted her lip. "You don't follow instructions well, do you?"

"My instructions were to protect her," he answered flatly, watching every hint of reaction. "That's exactly what I've done."

Her smile managed to broaden at that and her posture was loose. "I knew you would, Tom."

Jacob bristled at the name everyone had been calling him by, but it felt like a taunt falling from her lips.

"I'll admit that you moved more quickly than I would have anticipated, but I shouldn't be surprised. Zanetakos assured me her best."

"You knew it'd be me."

"I did."

"Why?"

Tremblay's amusement faded just a little at that, a hint of seriousness taking hold as she studied him. "Because I am very good at what I do, Tom. I read people. You didn't have to remember her for me to know that you'd be drawn to her. That you'd be willing to give your life to protect her."

A shiver ran through him and Jacob took a step towards. "Do you know what happened to me?"

"Pieces."

He could feel something inside of him shift, a desperation starting to claw at him. He wasn't afraid of much - he never had been - but answers dangling just out of his reach reminded him of the precipice of questions he stood at. He'd spent two and a half years pushing those questions back and down. It was the only way he'd been able to move forward, or at least what he thought was moving forward. He had burrowed down in what he knew. Which was… a lie, or at least it hadn't been the truth in a very long time. Now, knowing that, he still didn't have the answers he needed about what had happened in his ten missing years. He had stories and people that knew him, but _he_ didn't remember. "I need to know."

"You want to."

"I _need_ to," he pressed. "I need to know who I am because the man that Liz knows…."

She tilted her head, watching him carefully and all the mirth had washed out of her now. "You're an operative. A man that can become anyone. People like us shift and soak up whatever we need to in order to be whatever the job requires."

"I became someone else. Someone better."

"No," Tremblay chuckled. "You just convinced yourself that you did. You're a shell that was ready to be filled up and, for the first time, you were filled up with hope. It's powerful and it's distracting. It can get you killed, but I'm betting it'll protect her."

He wanted to argue. Liz saw someone different than he knew. Her friends saw someone different. He _felt_ different around her. He couldn't explain it and he couldn't remember it, but he knew it, somehow.

At least he thought he had.

The argument died in his throat and he swallowed hard. "Why am I here? Tonight. Now."

"To hear a warning." Tremblay said as she leaned in. He stood still where he was and felt her fingers ghost over his watch. She knew what it was and she knew how to disable it. It clicked before she whispered into his ear. "This is the beginning of the end, Tom. Protect her. She's everything." She pressed a strange kiss against his cheek and pulled away, leaving Jacob to stare at her, dumbfounded.

"Don't move!" Ressler shouted from behind Jacob and Tremblay's smile returned.

"Don't let your wife's partner shoot me, hm?" She turned on her heel and Jacob watched her take a couple of steps before instinct kicked in and he spun, motioning to Ressler.

"Let her go."

"What?" the fed demanded, but Tremblay was already gone. Ressler lowered his gun and started towards Jacob. "Hey, you okay?"

He hadn't realized until that moment that he was dragging each breath in by gulps, the effort making his chest heave. It hurt, one breath not fully expelled before he tried to swallow another one. He couldn't shake the sudden and overwhelming feeling that each breath might be the last one he could pull in. It was the same feeling of panic he'd felt as he woke a couple of hours before.

"Tom, you okay?"

Ressler sounded genuinely concerned and as Jacob turned to look at him, he didn't feel like he had any control over the words leaving his lips. "I can't do this."

And he was moving. Running. The only thing that pushed back at the panic was running.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Well, Tom warned her in S2 he'd been running his whole life. He does it well.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Like so much with Tom, Tessler was a bromance that just didn't get what it deserved. They tee'd it up and set it to swing and then.... they killed Tom. Okay then. That's what fanfiction is for I guess. 

**Next Time** : Ressler has to admit to losing Liz's husband, Red provides a new detail for their case, and the Keens find a way to reconnect.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ressler has to admit to losing Liz's husband, Red provides a new detail for their case, and the Keens find a way to reconnect.

It had taken Ressler longer than it should have to realize that Tom wasn't stopping, and by the time he had taken off after him he had too much of a head start. He'd vanished down an alleyway like he'd never been there at all, leaving the ginger agent to stare at the shadows that stretched out from the garbage bins and the walls of the warehouses on either side.

He was gone. He'd lost Tom.

They looked for a while before they were forced to admit that they'd lost the trail and that it would only get colder the longer they tried to catch a glimpse of the trained covert operative that, apparently, didn't want to be found. Ressler tried calling Liz on their drive to the Post Office, but she sounded like she was battling a very cranky Agnes over something that had to do with mismatched shoes if he understood the part of the conversation that wasn't directed at him, which was most of it. She apologized and told him she'd be in soon, never giving him a chance to tell her why he'd called in the first place before she hung up.

"She'll understand," Aram tried as he flipped through to the next traffic cam that he probably shouldn't have access to, but desperate times and all that. Not that they hadn't stretched things before.

Ressler shot him a look. "It's Liz. And Tom."

The tech expert loosed an unsteady breath. "What's going to happen if…"

"If we don't find him?" Ressler looked at him for a long moment, struggling for the answer. Really, there was only one. "That's not an option."

The doors to the lift sounded across the Post Office, signalling a new arrival, and Ressler grimaced. Time to face the music.

Liz was talking as she entered. "Agnes has gotten into this thing where she wants to mismatch shoes. They're not even shoes that make sense. One tennis shoe and one of her rain boots this morning. I don't know what that kid is thinking," she laughed and stopped where Ressler and Aram were standing next to Aram's work station, the video feeds up. "You guys are in early. Where's Tom?"

Ressler drew in a breath that he didn't feel like steadied him nearly as much as it should. "We don't know."

That stopped Liz, her smile instantly dissipating. "What do you mean?"

Aram made a nervous sound behind him, but Ressler was the one to answer. "His handler called to set a meet."

"And he went? You let him go? Ressler-"

"We backed him up!" Aram interjected, pulling her attention around to him. Ressler saw him take a hesitant step back at the look he received.

"What did you not understand about this woman being good at what she does? She single-handedly took down all of Tolliver's people from the building next to the one we were in through the window. He shouldn't have been -"

"He was fine, Liz," Ressler snapped. "This wasn't our first sting. _Any_ of us."

"Then where the hell is he?"

Ressler took half a beat, desperate to pull his own temper into check. He knew she wasn't happy, he knew that she was scared, but she knew _him_. She should know that he wasn't going to put the man she loved in harm's way without backup. Finally, he met her gaze and chose each word he spoke with care. "Tremblay said something. Before you ask, I don't know what. Either she or Tom cut the feed."

"The feed. You _wired_ _him up_?"

"It was a watch…." Aram tried and Ressler looked back at him. He really was not helping.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I did."

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. He watched the rage build and the fear in her eyes sharpened like daggers in his direction. "You should have called back!" she shouted, taking an aggressive step towards him. "Now he's gone and I…" She loosed a frustrated sound, balling her fists and pressing pressing the heels of her hands against her temples. "You've called him?"

"Aram tried tracing his phone first off," Ressler said, his voice a little softer this time. "Liz…. he was freaked out. He'd been dreaming earlier, he's dealing with screwed up memories that someone might have done to him…. He'll be back."

"You don't know that."

"No," he huffed, "but I bet you do."

She sniffed hard. "I have to find him. Call me if there's a break in the case."

"Yeah." He watched as she walked out, her rage following her.

"She'll fund him, right?" Aram asked softly.

"For her sake I hope so."

* * *

She shouldn't have yelled at Ressler, she knew. He'd had her back all through this and before in ways that she often felt like she didn't deserve, but the terror had swept through her with more force than Liz had been prepared for. In that moment, hearing that Tom had run, she had lost her chance. She had been certain of it. There would be no other chance. There would only be knowing what she'd lost and never getting it back. It was a stretch, she knew somewhere under the panic. He'd walked when she'd found him with Tolliver just a handful of days before and had come back on his own, but fear didn't always need logic to back it. Sometimes there was just fear and it swallowed her up and dragged her under.

Liz's mind raced a million miles a minute as she fumbled with her car keys and sped right back out of the Post Office parking structure, unsure of where she was going. Where should she look? Everything that meant something to him in this town was part of what he'd forgotten.

Her phone rang, echoing over the bluetooth that had automatically connected and she risked a look to see _Nick's Pizza_ flash across the screen as the incoming call. She nearly declined it, but there was a chance he had heard about Tolliver's demise. If so, and if she didn't answer, he'd send the cavalry after her. That was the last thing she needed right then.

She clicked the accept button. "Yeah?"

" _Elizabeth! I hope I didn't wake you_ ," came the chipper, familiar voice from the other end of the line. Well, if he knew Tolliver was dead, he wasn't going to lead with that.

And she sure as hell wasn't going to volunteer the information. "Yeah, hitting the ground running on this Collector case. Killing him made piecing everything else together a lot harder," she said pointedly.

Reddington let loose a long suffering sigh that Liz felt much more entitled to than he should. " _I'm calling with an olive branch._ "

"Oh, what kind?" she asked as she took a turn down a street, still unsure exactly where she was driving to.

" _The kind that comes with a name in the ledger that I recognized. She was part of the East German faction of the Cabal when it was active. It appears she endeared herself to her Western counterpart in some way, shape, or form. Not surprising, really._ "

"You going to tell me the name or do I have to guess?"

" _Do you get enough sleep? They say seven to nine hours is ideal, but I've found -_ "

"The name, Reddington," Liz snapped. She was starting to recognize her surroundings and she hoped to anything or anyone that might be listening that maybe she was right.

" _Emilia Schmitz._ "

Liz snorted. "See? You can be direct. I have to go." She didn't let him argue as she ended the call, pulling into the sparsely occupied parking lot. This park tended to see more stay-at-home moms with their kids, so with the exception of a couple of joggers that were taking advantage of the space it was empty.

Joggers and a lone figure hunched over and sitting on a picnic table near the swings. Her panicked brain might not have been able to come up with where he might go, but at least her subconscious had been able to cut through it. Apparently his had too.

Liz stepped out of her vehicle and started towards the figure. The early morning light highlighted the smoke curling up from the nearly-finished cigarette hanging from his fingers and he was turned so that he couldn't see her, his gaze watching the urban park.

"You used to bring Agnes here."

She didn't miss the small jump at her voice and he turned, blinking owlishly at her, and then his muscles seemed to relax. "Did I?"

"Yeah. It was the closest one to the apartment. You swore she loved it."

"She had to be little."

"She was."

"Then she didn't love it."

Liz felt her lips tug just a little at the corners. "You thought she did." She motioned at the table he was perched on and he nodded, scooting over to give her room to take a seat next to him.

He flicked the butt of his cigarette out and the embers sparked off of the concrete. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"Why?"

The question was sharp and Liz found the answer lost somewhere deep in her throat, unable to make its way from her lips before he huffed in irritation.

"I'm not him."

"Who?"

"Your Tom."

"Why do you say that?"

He rolled his eyes a little at the soft question and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Because she was right. I'm an operative. I play parts. Whatever you thought you saw, whatever I thought I was…. It was all fake. It's always fake."

"That's not true," Liz managed and reached out, her fingers ghost against his, but he snapped his hand away.

"It is. You have no idea what I've done these last couple years. Who I've been. I've used people, I've killed. I did whatever I needed to do to get the job done. Never mattered. Never worried about it. Whatever I was for you was what you wanted, not who I am." He grimaced a little, his eyes focused on his boots. "When I didn't remember you, I was just an operative. Nothing else."

He hadn't left his seat on the table, even if he'd pulled away from her, but she could see how every muscle was taught with stress. His hand that she'd tried to take was flexing open and closed in an old sign of agitation and Liz drew in a deep breath, snapping out so that he didn't have time to pull away. She laced her fingers through his and closed around them tightly. "Look at me." She waited until he did and he looked so lost in that moment. She tightened her hold and reached up to cup his chin. "Experiences make us who we are. You've lost the memory of those experiences, not what they've done. You're you. Yeah, you're an operative. A damn good one that can make anyone think he's anybody, but under all that you're still you." She held his gaze, his own words echoing in her mind and she let them fall from her lips. "I don't care what you've done, I know who you are."

"What if you're wrong?" he whispered, his voice desperate and more than a little broken.

"I'm not. I promise you I'm not. You just have to trust me."

He stared at her, tears starting to form, and he leaned almost like he was going to kiss her, but he rested his forehead against hers instead. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," she breathed, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

"Did you shoot me?"

A surprised laugh escaped her and she risked a look at him. "Oh. You're serious?"

"Yeah."

There was something strange in his tone, like he was testing something between them. The truth. He was looking for the truth. She offered a look that was more grimace than smile. "I did, but to be fair, you had that same gun at my head before I got away from you."

Tom quirked an eyebrow, looking impressed, though if it was over the honest answer or the fact that she'd managed to snag the gun from him back then, she couldn't be sure. He pushed a breath out through his nose. "We had a weird marriage, didn't we?"

"It took us a while, but we got to a really good place."

He sniffed hard and leaned back in. Her arms immediately went around him and she felt him melt into it. "I trust you. You're the only one that I trust," she heard him say.

Liz held onto him for a long moment before risking a kiss to the side of his head. "Hey, let's go home."

* * *

Jacob felt raw. Exposed. The only thing he felt like was anchoring him was Liz's hand in his as she guided him through the parking lot, to the elevator, and up to the apartment that supposedly they had once shared. Agnes was at school and she could get some work done from there, she explained as she unlocked the door. He looked like he could use a few hours' sleep.

He found himself staring at her as she moved through the apartment, Tremblay's words echoing in his mind.

 _You didn't have to remember her for me to know that you'd be drawn to her_.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, her voice cutting through and pulling him back around.

He opened his mouth, but felt the words die in his throat almost immediately. He had never been particularly talented at sorting through and expressing his own feelings, and right then it was like he was drowning in them. Everyone knew more than he did about his own life. Gina and Tremblay had exploited that, but then there was Elizabeth Keen. Between the life she lived every day, the work she so clearly threw herself into, and what must have been a shock of her own in seeing a man she thought was dead show back up, she had been the only steady point in his chaos. An anchor to keep him from being washed away by it all. She wasn't always calm, but she was gentle and, as far as he could tell, she was honest with him. Hell, if the tables had been turned he wouldn't have admitted to shooting her.

"Tom?" she called out and he blinked hard.

He sucked in an unsteady breath. "Thank you."

"For what?"

He swallowed hard, refusing to let the words get stuck this time. "Being honest with me. Being…." He ran his hand through his hair nervously. "I shouldn't have ghosted on you like that."

Jacob risked a look up and found Liz watching him. She looked as uncertain as he felt. "You fought for me. Again and again, sometimes when I told you not to and definitely when I felt like I didn't deserve it. I'm going to do the same for you, because I'm not willing to lose you again." She leaned forward and he could feel her breath she was so close. "I'm with you on this. You and me. I love you."

There was a long, tense moment. He should pull back, he knew, but he was drawn to her in every way. There was no denying that.

He wasn't sure which of them broke the moment, but all at once they came crashing together. Liz reached a hand up to the back of his neck and he leaned in as she pulled him closer, both willingly deepening the kiss and neither seeming to have the willpower or desire to hit pause on this.

Jacob wrapped his arms around her waist and she shifted to hold on as if she knew he was going to lift her up off the ground. She laughed against him as he carried her further into the apartment and set her down only long enough for her to pull him after her as they toppled onto the couch, her hands tugging clothes away as his kisses moved down her jawline.

"I've missed you," she managed as she shifted to catch him in another kiss.

"I've missed you too."

The words tumbled out without permission and Jacob stopped, pulling back like he'd been struck. Liz stared at him. "What?"

"How can I miss you if I don't remember you?" he managed, hating how small his own voice sounded.

"Because you know me," she whispered and her smile pushed back the fear. She shifted, sliding out from under him, but she caught his hand as she did. She held it, those beautiful blue eyes holding him hostage, and he knew in that moment that he would have done anything for her, even if he couldn't articulate why.

"C'mon," she called softly and pulled him up. The kisses were softer this time, although still a little desperate, as she led him back to the bedroom.

* * *

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jacob's dreams were peaceful. He still didn't hold onto much more than a ghost of a memory as he surfaced, but he could almost feel the weight of a hand in his and the warmth of her lips pressed against his. It felt like home.

Jacob woke up slowly in a bed that he only vaguely recognized as the one that Liz had pulled him into some hours before. The sheets were tangled around his long legs and the pillow was a whole lot softer than he was used to. It made him want to roll over and go back to sleep. He was warm and comfortable and safe.

That didn't mean that he could sleep the whole day away, and if the soft tapping of nails in a keyboard were anything to go by Liz certainly wasn't.

He turned to find the woman in question sitting on the bed next to him - considerably more dressed than she had been when he'd fallen asleep - with her laptop propped up on her lap and focused on what she was working on. She was dressed in a pair of sleeping shorts and a green t-shirt with an apple on the front that was a little big on her. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and he found himself reaching forward to touch her, hoping against hope it wouldn't break a dream wide open and erase her face from his memory all over again.

She startled a little at the touch against her leg, but a smile pulled into place. "Hey."

"Hey," he greeted back, his voice raspy from sleep. "Whatcha working on?"

"The case. Reddington gave me a name and I'm running down what I can from here."

"You could have gone in. I wouldn't have gone anywhere."

Her expression tightened just a little and he wondered if she believed him. After a moment she reached over to run a hand through his dark hair and he found himself leaning into the touch. "You slept a good chunk of the day."

"Best sleep I've had in… long as I can remember," he admitted softly. He rolled up to sitting, stretching out stiff muscles and twisting around until his back popped. "When's this kid coming home? I should probably —"

"No, she's staying over at her friend's tonight."

"So we have some time?"

Liz's lips curled up at the corners and she closed her laptop, setting it aside. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she turned back, leaning over him. The kiss was long and filled him with more warmth than he could recall ever feeling, the sensation flooding through him so that he found himself reaching up, fingers ghosting along her face and pulling her gently closer to him.

"I have good news," she murmured after a long moment, finally barely breaking the kiss to speak.

She pulled back and Jacob found himself following her a little, but finally eased back down to the pillow behind him. "Yeah?"

"Dr Orchard called while you were sleeping."

"The memories doctor?"

"Yeah. She's been locked up with another patient, but she wants to meet with you. She thinks she might be able to help."

Jacob straightened at that. "I could get my memories back?"

"Maybe," she said, her tone careful. "If that's what you want."

"More than anything," he answered with a grin and shifted to sitting so he could pull her into another kiss.

He could feel her smile against his lips, her fingers wrapping around the back of his neck and the opposite hand traveling down his ribs, ghosting across the scars there and stopping. She pulled back and held his gaze, fingers lingering there. "Tell me about it."

"About what?"

"Waking up, St Regis, the last two and a half years… everything."

He grimaced. "You don't wanna know."

"It's not your fault. You know that, right? Whoever did this to you, whoever took your memories, it's them. It's on them."

She sounded like she believed it, and Jacob might have even told her exactly what she wanted to know if the sound of the front door's lock sliding out of place hadn't reverberated through the apartment, setting both Keens on edge as the door opened outside of the bedroom.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Look at these two cuties starting to figure things out (only to have an uninvited someone walk into their home). Anyone have a guess as to who it is?

 **Next Time** : Liz and Tom uncover something about Brigitte Tremblay and Red has a surprising visitor.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Tom uncover something about Brigitte Tremblay and Red has a surprising visitor.

They were both frozen, tense, as the door opened up. Liz eased back and away, looking for her purse with her gun inside of it, but she'd left it in the living room hours before. Tom rolled as quietly from the bed as he could, his fingers wrapping around his own firearm that he'd set on the nightstand just before Liz had unhooked his belt.

And then she heard it. A small, excitable voice. "It's in here!" Agnes announced, and Tom was already halfway to setting the gun back down when Liz waved at him. She motioned at the drawer and he slipped it inside as she started for the bedroom door that stood only half closed.

Beth stood just past it, watching Agnes and Shelly run for the pile of princess dolls. Beth's gaze was fixed on Tom's sweatshirt that had been dropped on the floor.

"Hey," Liz said softly, but still managed to startle the other mom.

Beth startled, turning with her hand pressed against her chest. "Liz! You scared the crap out of me! I thought you were at work."

"Not that one!" Shelly huffed loudly, pulling both mothers' attentions to the girls and Agnes was on her feet already.

She was halfway to Liz's room as she called over her shoulder, "Mommy, is Cinderella in your room?" Liz didn't have a chance to stop her and could only hope that Tom was more clothed than she'd left him. "Hi, Jacob! I'm looking for Cinderella!" Agnes' voice carried from the room.

Beth turned an amused look on Liz. "Jacob?"

"It's…. complicated," Liz managed, but Beth nodded towards this discarded clothing.

"Not _too_ complicated, I hope. This is good. How long has it been since Agnes' dad….?"

"Found her!" Agnes shouted and reemerged from the room. She had her Cinderella doll in one arm and had ahold of Tom's hand so that she could pull him out into the living room with the other hand. Thankfully he had managed to get his jeans and t-shirt back on. No telling where his boots were. "Jacob helped!"

"I got Merida!" Shelly called out from the pile of dolls.

Beth shot Liz a look, not bothering to try to hide her small smile of approval. "Well, that's what we were after. Agnes, are you ready for your sleepover?"

Agnes' little face screwed up in irritation and she tightened her hold on Tom's hand. "I wanna play with Jacob."

"Hey, kiddo," Liz said softly, pulling Agnes' attention around. "Weren't you looking forward to your princess sleepover?"

The irritation deepened and the four-year-old looked like she was on the verge of a meltdown. Well, that was unexpected. Sleepovers at Shelly's house were usually at the top of Agnes' list of favourite things to do, but in that moment she looked like Liz had just told her that she was going to the doctor's for a shot. "I wanna play with Jacob!" she said again, more forcefully this time, and clung just a little harder as she turned to look up at the man she couldn't possibly know was her father. "Please?"

Liz watched the brief look of terror flash through his dark blue eyes before he readjusted, his expression softening at the increasingly determined look that was settling into their daughter's face, and he looked to Liz giving the smallest of nods. He was good with it if she was.

"Looks like we're going to have to postpone princess night," Liz relented and shot Shelly an apologetic look. "That okay?"

"Can Merida come home with me?" the little girl asked and Liz forced a smile.

"I think we can work that out."

"You sure?" Beth asked quietly and she looked sympathetic.

Liz wasn't sure if - or even how - she would ever explain how the layers of the complicated mess that she and the man that Agnes was calling Jacob had found themselves tangled up in. How do you tell a perfectly normal woman with a perfectly normal job and a perfectly normal life that your husband that you thought was dead for the last two and a half years was back and missing a decade's worth of memories? That you found out only because a woman that they didn't even know the real name of had hired him and that another woman that you had thought was your mother had been ready to put a bullet in his head for spying on her? There was no way to make that sound even remotely sane, and that didn't even touch on any of the other pieces of chaos that made up her life. She was starting to remember why she'd ghosted on most of their friends after their first marriage had ended.

"He must be special," Beth said, pulling Liz out of her thoughts. "I'm really happy for you." She reached out for Shelly who held onto the doll tightly and waved goodbye to Agnes who seemed much more interested in Tom.

There was something in not only the way that their daughter was looking at him, but how much softer he seemed to be with her that helped to push away the rest of the chaos. "He really is," Liz breathed, barely audible as Beth and Shelly left. She felt a smile tug into place. "Hey, how about a trip to the park?"

Agnes' face lit up. "The _park_!" she squealed.

She ran to go put Cinderella on her bed and Liz leaned in close. "You sure? There's no turning back once she's involved."

"I don't want to turn back," he answered softly. "No more running."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

Tom had always had conflicting views about being a father. He'd all but begged her to have a child with him during their first marriage, his excitement over her dream of adopting making a whole lot more sense after she'd learned about his own childhood and upbringing. They had hit roadblock after roadblock with the adoption. The timing had been thrown off when Zamani had nearly killed Tom and then Liz had backed out at the last second with their friend Jenni's little boy. Tom had been devastated after the last one, but even now she knew it had been for the best. They never could have raised a child in that home with so many lies between them. It wouldn't have been fair to them or the child.

Then he'd found out that she was pregnant with Agnes and she'd seen that same excitement return, despite the flippant manner he'd referred to everything when she had interrogated him on the boat. Something in him wanted to be a father - to have a home and a family with her - and she'd wondered in that moment if it wasn't a bit of what she'd struggled with herself. He hadn't known where he came from and his own childhood had been a disaster. There was something in the idea of having a little one that made it feel like, somehow, something good could come of it.

And it had. All the fears, all the worries, and all the struggles later, that little girl was the center of her world. Liz hadn't been willing to risk adding to Agnes' trauma by letting her get close to him until Tom was certain. She thought that would come with his memories, but some things were stronger than memories. He was nervous, hesitant, but there was no missing the way he softened with her or the contentment that made its way to his expressive eyes as Agnes ran circles around him, like for just a moment he didn't have to fight just to survive. For the first time in a long time Liz let herself remember how much their daughter's laugh reminded her of his.

For the rough start, this day had been exactly what she needed to reset. It had given her hope. Orchard had finally gotten in contact, the Collector case seemed to be inching forward again, and she couldn't help but feel like her family might be whole someday soon. Agnes certainly adored her father, even if Liz had no idea how she would know who he was. She'd said something about finding her box of photos she kept tucked away, but there was no context for that, and certainly no context that a four-year-old could draw from it. But there was no hesitation in the way she approached him though, tugging his hand to keep him close and pulling him around the park.

And he went with her, never letting go.

"She thinks I'm going to leave again." Tom's voice pulled Liz out of her thoughts and she glanced over to the passenger seat where he was leaned back, his expression difficult to read. He tilted his head a little and turned to look back at the sleeping little girl in the back seat. "She can't remember me, right? From before?"

"I was just thinking about that," Liz admitted softly. "I don't think there's any way she could, but just because she doesn't remember you doesn't mean she doesn't know you, at least on some level."

He let his head fall back against the headrest with a light _thump_ and turned to watch the city pass by through the window. "I can get that."

Liz kept her gaze fixed on the road in front of them, but her lips tilted up in a smile. Yep. This had turned out to be a good day, despite the way it had begun.

They parked in the garage and a sleepy Agnes refused to move unless Tom was carrying her. She wrapped around his neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder, and she was out again. He took it in stride and it would have been very easy in that moment to pretend that the last two and a half years had played out very differently. That he had been there for the play dates, the weird breakfast requests, and every princess tea party. That Agnes had grown up perched on his shoulders as he made sure she had the life he'd never known after he'd been taken. That she grew up safe and loved by both of her parents. It was easy to pretend, and that image lasted her up to the door of their apartment where reality crashed back into place.

Nothing good lasted forever. That was the one constant in their lives.

Liz didn't see any sign of forced entry, but Gina Zanetakos had made herself right at home in the white rocking chair that faced the front door of the apartment. In unison both Liz and Tom went for their guns, Tom sliding Agnes around with surprising ease and shifting so that he was between the little girl and the bored looking blonde.

Gina smirked just a little at the sight of Tom with Agnes. "Back to playing house so soon?"

"What part of our last conversation made you think it wasn't our last?" Tom snarled and Agnes started to stir at his tone.

"Put your guns down. I'm not here to bring you back."

Agnes started to squirm in earnest and slipped down, landing in a controlled fall so that her bare feet hit the wood floor. Liz grabbed her, pulling her behind both she and Tom.

He readjusted his grip on his gun, steadying it with both hands. "Then why?"

Gina sighed, the sound exasperated and she relaxed back in the chair. "You came to me after you left the first time and said you wanted peace."

"Doesn't sound like me."

"You'd changed." She tilted her head, studying him.

"What do you want, Zanetakos?" Liz growled and for the first time the other woman's attention focused on her.

"Peace," she answered tightly, as if the word physically sickened her.

"You think I know too much, don't you?" Tom asked, finally lowering his weapon just a little.

"I know you know too much."

"Why not just kill me?"

Liz stiffened a little at Agnes' worried sound. It wasn't lost on her that Agnes was the same age she had been when she had gotten her hands on a weapon and took that fateful shot all those years ago. There were plenty of dangers surrounding her and she certainly had the stubborn streak that she'd inherited from them both. Liz didn't want her daughter to get it stuck in her mind that she needed to protect them. Thankfully, Tom managed to block Agnes from finding space to get around them and Liz felt a relieved breath escape her.

Gina's expression had shifted when Liz looked back to her. A little softer. Little more strained. "You know why," she murmured, but then she squared her shoulders and her expression turned back to bored. "I'm here for a trade." She reached into her pocket, not seeming to be bothered by the pair of guns that leveled at her movement. She held a jump drive between her fingers. "Your buddy Fitz was digging into something he shouldn't have. No one knows where he is."

"Dead," Tom answered sharply and Gina shrugged.

"He found some interesting information about the woman he was researching for you…. and more."

"What kind of more?"

"Enough to buy your silence. I give you this, I don't have to worry about the feds showing up at my door as thanks for letting you live. We go our separate ways and we're done. For good this time."

"And if it's not worth the swap?" Tom asked.

"Then you know where to find me." She stood offering the jump drive to him. Slowly Tom lowered his weapon to reach out for it, but she didn't immediately let go. "Just know they have orders to kill if you show your face on campus again."

He smirked, tugging the drive from her fingers. "Noted."

Liz pulled Agnes back as Gina circled far too close to her for Liz's comfort. She clenched her teeth, waiting, and Tom moved first to lock the door. Only then did Liz risk loosing a breath, setting the gun aside, and pulling Agnes up into her arms. Gina Zanetakos had been in their home with their daughter. She'd said she'd come with a peace offering, but to Liz, it felt more like a show of power. Another person that could get to them any time she wanted to.

The little girl wrapped around her. "It's okay, Mommy. The bad lady's gone."

Liz felt the tenseness loosen just a little and she pressed a kiss to the side of her daughter's head. "I know, baby. I know."

* * *

The feeling of danger lingered in the apartment long after Gina was gone. Agnes consoled her mother almost more than her mother consoled her, leaving Jacob with another round of questions on how a kid that was supposed to be his was more compassionate at four than he knew how to be at thirty-five.

Liz worked to get Agnes settled and distracted in their line of sight while he borrowed her computer to see what Gina had felt was so important that she could use it to leverage him from bringing everything she cared about down around her head after what she'd done to him.

It wasn't a small file which, having known Fitz and his boundless curiosity over the years like he did, shouldn't have surprised him. The man had had connections everywhere and was able to dig up dirt that no one else could touch. He was able to bury it in the same way too, which was one of the things that had made him so useful to St Regis over the years.

There were folders of information, most of it in Russian and redacted, but there were documents under a dozen aliases littered in it. Birth certificates, death certificates, IDs, and other odds and ends. He read through the notes, eyes fixing on photos where they were available, and Fitz had even left a document explaining what he'd found. Jacob was halfway through it when a hand touched his shoulder lightly and he found Liz joining him on the couch.

"Is all of this linked to Tolliver?" she asked quietly.

Jacob glanced over to see Agnes busy with a sketchpad and crayons at the table, but kept his voice low as well. "Not all of it, doesn't look like."

"So who are the other women?"

"From what Fitz found…. Katarina Rostova."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm still working through it, but… You ever play Three Card Monte? Find the Lady?"

"The card game? Sure. My adopted father was a grifter. I could pull that one off without a hitch by the time I was seven."

Jacob smirked at the thought of Liz conning some unsuspecting schmuck out of their cash. "Looks like that from what I can tell. Multiple women working under the same name. You can have her in more than one place at once and it builds the legends. We studied the theory when I was a teenager at St Regis, but Bud said no one had pulled it off successfully. Guess he was wrong."

"So Tolliver wasn't my mother, but that doesn't mean… Are there any other photos? The different women?"

There was a desperation in her voice that Jacob wasn't sure he liked, but he nodded, scrolling through. There were at least three different women, all around the same age and of similar builds. Redheads - possibly unnaturally so - with dangerous looks to them. It would be easy to mistake one for the other if you weren't looking very closely.

"There. Her," Liz snapped and Jacob stopped scrolling.

He felt his breath catch. "Who is she?" he asked carefully.

"My mother. It's her, from when I was little. I _recognize_ her." The words tumbled out, quick and shocked and terrified and excited.

Jacob swallowed hard. "Liz… I know that woman."

"What? How?"

"Age her up a little over thirty years and it's her. That's the woman that hired me. That's Brigitte Tremblay."

They turned to look at the photo together, a new layer of shock settling over them as Brigitte Tremblay - Katarina Rostova - stared back from the file.

* * *

It had been a long day. Elizabeth may have been focused on what she saw as the truth - that Red had offered up a Blacklister with the sole intention of taking him off the playing board - but taking out the Collector had only slowed the rate in which everything was crashing down around them. The search for the Sikorsky Archive, Elizabeth's poking and prodding where she shouldn't, and now the understanding that the Bonn faction of the Cabal was coming back into play didn't hold a candle to what it would all mean in the end.

And the end was coming. He'd always known it would. Reddington had just hoped he would live long enough to shield the people he loved from the brunt of the fallout.

He heaved a heavy sigh, leaning back in his recliner and closing his eyes. Life had been simple once, hadn't it? At the very least he had been able to pretend that it was. A wife, a daughter, a career, and a name that he'd worn like a mask. It had protected him. It still did, at least from the worst of it. It protected her too.

No, he conceded, if only to himself, even the illusion of simplicity had been washed away when she came into his life, but he wouldn't change it for anything. If Elizabeth and her little girl managed to surface from all of this safe and whole, it would all be worth it.

These were the moments he wished that Dom were awake. He hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on the man. Perhaps not for advice, but for a figure that had been with him for so long. He knew him in a way that most didn't. Couldn't. Even Dembe who knew _of_ the secrets hadn't been there for their birth into the world.

Dom has been, but despite all of the doctor's efforts the older man still hadn't surfaced fully from his coma. He was breathing and he was healing, but much like Elizabeth only a couple of years before there was a question of _if_ as well as _when_.

A knock at the door startled him from the near-dozing state he had sunk into and he straightened to listen. Dembe must have slipped out at some point, but he wouldn't have knocked to come back in. With precious few people aware of this little apartment hideaway that he kept, Elizabeth was the only other reasonable option.

Anyone else would spell trouble.

Reddington reached for his revolver, frowning at the slight tremor in his hand as he did. He pulled it from its holster and moved towards the door with all but silent footsteps. He risked a look through the peephole and blinked in surprise at the red headed woman flexing her fingers in a playful wave, her smile as impish as it had been all those years ago when he had first met her.

"Are you planning on letting me in?" she asked, her tone light even as he undid the locks and pulled the door open. He dropped the gun down so the muzzle was aimed at the floor and her smile only broadened. "Hello, Raymond."

"Katarina," he managed, her name escaping on a breath.

"We need to talk."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : I realized some time after writing this that the Keens really do have a lot of unexpected and sometimes unwelcome guests in their home. Two in one chapter lol

So, a lot happened in this chapter, but I want to give a shoutout to everyone that thought Brigitte was Katarina. You were riiiiiiight! Now here's the big question: what's her endgame?

 **Next Time** : Katarina tries to enlist Reddington's help, Ressler reveals a secret to Cooper, and Tom has his first memory recovery session.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katarina tries to enlist Reddington's help, Ressler reveals a secret to Cooper, and Tom has his first memory recovery session.

Raymond Reddington was frozen at the door of his apartment that he kept, Katarina Rostova standing there like it hadn't been nearly two decades since he'd last laid eyes on her. They'd communicated in the occasional coded letter and there had been one late-night phone call back in 2013 in which she screamed at him in every language they both knew and a couple that he wasn't fluent in. It had ended in a reminder of a promise: he would protect Elizabeth with his life, just as he'd always been willing to do. Then she'd been gone again, leaving him wondering if the call had been a dream his mind had cooked up in response to crashing into Elizabeth's life.

But there she was at his door, looking at him expectantly until he pivoted out of her way and let her slide into the apartment.

She'd aged gracefully, not that he'd ever expected anything different. Her hair, while lighter, still held most of its natural reddish hue that he'd loved in their youth and those eyes were as playful as they'd ever been. She was so full of life, even long after most of the world had been convinced that she was dead. Those beautiful blue eyes of hers held his own, locking him in place as she slipped passed him, every step intentional and that smile still hadn't left her even as she turned towards the living room. "Quaint," she stated, her voice light but the judgement clear. She had always had a certain level of taste.

"What are you doing here, Kat?"

Katarina turned at the old nickname that slipped from his lips. "You were careless."

His eyes narrowed and he followed her into the room, her finger trailing across smooth surfaces as she made her way to the bookshelf. He watched as she looked over the books, the knickknacks, and finally the photos. "How so?"

She paused at the framed photo of Elizabeth in her lap, young and smiling and carefree, Katarina's face washed out by the flash. It had been a carefully taken photo on a rare day in which they'd felt like a family. They hadn't been, of course, something that he'd known all too well even without the way that she had liked to remind him of it.

"Lia," Katarina answered easily as she set the photo back in place.

"Who?"

She turned, a questioning look plastered on her face too evenly to be real. "Lia. Lia Sokolova. Did you never know her real name?"

"I don't know who you're referring to."

Katarina huffed a laugh, turning back to the shelf. "Blonde, leggy…. Tried to kill my father."

"Ah," he breathed. "You never would tell me their names."

"You shouldn't have known about them at all," she said pointedly. "I shouldn't have told you."

"But you did."

"It was foolish."

"You trusted me."

"It nearly destroyed us. You, me… Masha."

"She's taken care of," Reddington assured her. Sam had started her training and he'd continued it himself over the last seven years. Now that she was the sole heir to his will she'd be taken care of financially as well. It wasn't what he wanted, necessarily - at least not like this - but it was something. He'd be damned if he died and left her out in the cold on her own.

Katarina turned, studying him. "You don't know, do you?"

He resisted the urge to show the confusion the question sparked. "I know a great many things, Kat. You'll have to be more specific."

"What she's been up to."

"I know the case she's been working. It's under control."

Katarina barked a laugh and she took a couple steps closer to him. "I'd wager by this point she doesn't give a damn about the case, not if they're anything like us when we were young."

He wasn't sure exactly what she meant by that, but he knew it couldn't be good. "What have you done?"

She covered the remaining step and a half to stand directly in front of him, leaned in, and whispered into his ear: "He's alive."

The tug of uncertainty that had been building in Red turned cold. "Who?"

Katarina pulled back enough that he could see the amusement in her eyes. "Tom Keen." He didn't dare say anything else and she shook her head. "Hell of an operative," she filled the silence. "He just about died protecting her at least once, so when I needed someone to keep an eye on her, I thought: _who better_?"

She was baiting him. She had to be, but that didn't mean that she hadn't found him tucked away at St Regis and offered Zanetakos a duffel bag or two of money as down payment for the man that had probably risen back through the ranks once he had a clean bill of health again. Reddington should have kept an eye on him, he knew, and part of him had kicked himself here and there for not doing it better, but every time he thought about setting someone out to bring back news of the man that - sometimes - went by Jacob Phelps he knew he was playing with fire. He knew nothing. He saw nothing. It wasn't like he could bring him back to her anyway.

But Katarina had. Somehow. "You know, don't you?"

"That you're the one that cost him his memories? I would have put money on it, but I didn't know for sure until you just told me." She sauntered over to his couch and took a seat, kicking off her heels and folding her legs beneath her. Her expression was a little more serious now. "I've seen the way she loves him. Why did you do it?"

"He found the bones."

"Raymond…"

"Kate sent them to him to deliver to Elizabeth."

" _Raymond_."

He felt a spark flash in his temper. "Don't. I've been here at the center all of this while you've been in the shadows. _Safe_."

"Who wanted me there?"

"I wanted all of us safe. We could have been if you'd just come with me."

He watched her stiffen at that. "You stole her from me."

"You were reckless. You put her in the cross-hairs and you… You saw what happened to him and you did nothing to protect your own daughter."

"My daughter?" she echoed.

He shook his head. "I could be her father or I could keep her safe. I couldn't have it both ways. Neither could you. That's why we sent her to Sam." The reminder of all he'd given up, all they had needed to be willing to give up, hung between them and Reddington felt a strange mix of relief and guilt in his almost-confession of who Liz was, even if Katarina has always known.

Her expression softened a little, all amusement washed away. It was something deeper now. Sadness didn't even scrape the surface. "So Christopher discovered your secret and you took his memories, just like you did to Masha."

"I never meant to take Tom's memories of her, just to replace what he found. You and I both know why no one can know that, especially now."

"Now?"

Interesting. She didn't know. "Victor Petrov was delivering a message to Emilia Schmitz in Bonn. I've confirmed with contacts here: Bonn has taken initiative to rebuild the American branch." He watched some of the colour drain from her face.

"And I thought he'd moved too quickly," she mused. "There'll be no stopping them if he sends his own people in."

"There was only delaying. We were never going to stop them."

"Maybe at one point, but no, not in a long while now." Her hand snapped out and the touch was surprisingly gentle against his arm. "I know you did your best for her."

"Little good it did any of us."

"We're not done. Raymond -" she waited until he met her gaze "- we've been in this together for too long now. We're joined. If you go down, so do I."

"And vice versa," he agreed softly.

"I'd much rather us be on the same side again."

Reddington's jaw tightened just a little. "You've already reached out to Tom, so clearly you're preparing to contact Elizabeth. What are you here for?"

He knew that look. She thought it could fool anyone into thinking she was innocent, and maybe it could fool most people, but not him. "I just told you -"

"On the same side, yes," he cut her off. "But you need me to do something for you. You wouldn't have tipped your hand yet otherwise."

Katarina's smile was both intoxicating and terrifying at once. She tipped up on her toes, her hands traveling up his sides until she loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, never breaking eye contact with him. "Is it so difficult for you to believe that I've missed you?" she asked, her voice low.

He chuckled at that. "It's difficult to believe that only that would bring you out of hiding."

There was a very subtle change in her gaze, but he knew that expression. She was relenting, and when she spoke again her tone confirmed it. "You know him better than any of us"

"I barely knew him at all. He recruited you."

"He's coming and I meant what I said when I told you you'd been careless. Taking a seat at the table here was foolish."

"It was a calculated risk to keep an eye on them."

"Is that what you tell yourself?"

"They already knew me. You made sure of that."

Katarina pushed a frustrated breath out. "Where are the bones now?"

"Destroyed."

"But people know."

"You know, I know, and Dom knows."

"And Ilya."

Reddington cringed at that. If anyone deserved a bit of peace after everything, it was Ilya. "Yes." He moved to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. "I can't help you, Kat."

"And why is that?"

"Because I have nothing left to give."

Katarina moved to his side, pouring herself a drink as well. "That's never true."

"This time it is. I've done what I can to mobilize the Task Force to provide intel, but otherwise I'm afraid I won't be much used to you."

"Too bad you don't get that choice."

He snorted, sipping on his drink. "Do tell."

"Because I know your secrets." She flashed him a bright smile and downed the rest of her drink in one swallow.

The door to the apartment opened and both Reddington and Katarina had their guns leveled at the supposed intruder in unison. Dembe froze, dark eyes wide and his gaze fixed. "Katarina."

She lowered her weapon and the tense expression lightened immediately. "Dembe! Look at you. You grew up."

* * *

When he had been part of the first Reddington task force with Bobby, Julian, and the rest of the team, Ressler had discovered what it meant to live out of a suitcase. He had gotten good at packing at a moment's notice, so when Cooper had told him that he and Park would be on a plane to Germany that would leave out in just a few hours to catch the red-eye to Bonn, he was ready with time to spare.

Most of the Post Office had cleared out for the evening, but Ressler saw Cooper's office light on and took the steps up to it quickly. The door was open and Cooper looked up from where he was gathering his things to leave as well. "Agent Ressler. Did you need something before your flight?"

He could have called. Now that he was standing there in the doorway when he probably should already be in the cab on his way to Dulles, he realized that the more sensible thing would have been to call. It was easier to gauge a reaction in person though.

"Sir, I thought you should know that I'm running Tom Keen's DNA."

Well, it was easier to gauge most reactions in person. Assistant Director Harold Cooper didn't give any immediate tells, but instead seemed to be studying Ressler in turn. Finally, he reached for his suit jacket and shrugged it on. "I would have expected nothing less."

"Sir?"

Cooper turned to look at him. "We've seen too many strange things to count since this task force was brought together. Trusted friends that turned out to be enemies, Blacklisters with talents and means that I wouldn't have believed without seeing for myself…. Tom certainly isn't the first dead man to walk back through that door - or even the first time he's done it himself -"

"But you identified him," Ressler cut him off and Cooper nodded.

"I did, which means either someone had an excellent doppelgänger ready to use the night Reddington brought them to the hospital or has put one into play after having the time to orchestrate it."

"And using the excuse that he's lost time to explain why he doesn't know certain things," Ressler murmured, hating it even as he said it. He was a federal agent. He didn't have to like the evidence to follow it.

"The opportunity hadn't presented itself for me to quietly run his DNA yet," Cooper admitted and grabbed for his briefcase, motioning for Ressler to follow him out the door and he started down the stairs into the mostly-empty Post Office. "But he stayed the night at your home."

"And drank my beer," Ressler chuckled. He shook his head as they hit the bottom of the stairs. "If he's an imposter, he's a damn good one. I know Liz might want it to be true bad enough to overlook some signs, but…. The man on my couch last night sure as hell reminded me of that asshole from six years ago that said _good luck_ when I told him I was going to arrest him."

"Or beat Karakurt senseless in my garage," Cooper added, more amused than not. He turned, the levity washing away. "You were right to send it out."

"I can't shake the feeling I'm betraying my partner by going around her back on this."

"You said it yourself. Elizabeth wants to see it, and no one can blame her for that. She loves him. If Audrey somehow appeared at your door, what would you do to have that second chance with her?"

"Anything," Ressler answered immediately, and from the look Cooper gave, that was the answer he'd expected.

"Exactly. I don't have to tell you that time only dulls it, it doesn't take the pain away."

"No," Ressler breathed as his fiance's smile ripped through his memory like a wound that would never quite heal, and he remembered what he'd demanded of Liz as he stood over Bobby Jonicka: _What if it were Tom?_ It had been, and she'd been willing to burn the world when she'd resurfaced from her failed attempt at mourning.

"There's trust and there's blind trust," Cooper continued. "I hope for Elizabeth's sake that her trust is well founded, but as the people that care for her, we can make sure of that. You can make sure of that."

Ressler nodded, chuckling mirthlessly. "Trust but verify, huh?"

"Yes. Can I give you a ride to the airport?"

Ressler checked his watch. Calling a cab would cut it close now. "Yeah, thanks."

They stepped into the lift. "You're a good partner, Donald. A good friend. She'll see that, no matter what the outcome is."

He snorted. "You sure about that?"

Cooper tried for a smile. "Even if not immediately, someday."

Ressler loosed a breath as the lift started up. Cooper was right. Even if it didn't feel like it, this was how he could have Keen's back. Despite everything they'd seen, she'd never entertain the thought that the man was an imposter. Ressler hoped it was for a good reason, but he had to be sure. His friend had expedited the test. By the time Ressler was Stateside again, they'd know for sure if Tom Keen had somehow survived his own death yet again.

* * *

Liz had barely slept after she and Tom had uncovered the information that had simultaneously answered questions and dealt out dozens of new ones. Her mother - not the woman that had been posing as her mother and living under the name Maddie Tolliver, no. She'd only taken advantage of a woman desperate to know her family after so long - had found and hired Tom. She'd sought him out at St Regis over two years after his supposed death and had set him up to protect Liz. Not unlike Red had done years ago, the small and irritating thought had broken through before she had the chance to shove it aside. Still, from what Tom had said she'd expected him to cross paths with her. She'd expected Liz to find him. Despite telling him that Liz could never see him, that had been the goal all along.

It was strange, but her mother was strange. Even if her sparse memories told her that Katarina Rostova was a normal woman married to a normal man and living a normal life, Elizabeth Keen knew better than that all these years later. She knew her mother was a KGB spy, and now she knew that she was one of several women running under the name Katarina Rostova. They would pop up all over the globe, sometimes at the same time, painting the illusion that she was everywhere and nowhere at once. Sometimes a redhead, sometimes a blonde. In Russia or Germany or the United States. Liz didn't remember her being gone a lot, but she had been, otherwise Kate Kaplan never would have been hired to be her nanny while her mother was away.

Around 9:30 the night before it had become increasingly clear that Agnes would not go to bed unless Liz and Tom did. Liz had tucked her in twice, but both times she'd wandered out to interrupt the research. Finally, Liz gave, and told Agnes that they were going to bed, so she needed to go to bed. Five minutes after they'd flipped the lights off in their room - Tom awkwardly uncertain where he was supposed to sleep and Liz rolling her eyes and reminding him that he'd naturally gone to his side of the bed that morning - Agnes had pushed the door open and crawled into bed with them, snuggling up with her mom. Liz only managed a couple of hours of restless sleep before she gave up, slipping out of bed and into the living room to resume her research.

She didn't feel tired. She felt focused, even if every answer produced more questions. She spent the hours that Tom and Agnes slept blissfully unaware to study everything that Tom's friend Fitz had found on her mother and on the other women that had worked with her.

"Were you up all night?"

Liz startled at the unexpected voice behind her and she found Tom standing there, a little bleary eyed, and Agnes had ahold of his hand. Their little girl beamed. "I get pancakes again!" she announced and looked up to Tom.

"Give me just a second, okay?" he asked and she darted off to the kitchen, all the worry from the night before put away as only a child could. Tom turned his attention back to her. "Find anything?"

"A lot of questions."

"More?" he chuckled.

"So many more. You got breakfast handled?"

"Sure. You want pancakes?"

Liz stopped, finally looking around at the question, and found him waiting for her answer. For just a moment, she had been so distracted that she'd forgotten. For just a moment, despite being neck deep in research on KGB spies that were connected to her mother, life had been normal again. Tom knew who he was and he was getting their little girl up and ready for school like he would have so many times before if Garvey hadn't taken him away from her. If…. She blinked hard, the thought process slamming headlong into a possibility she hadn't considered. "Do you think my mother might have had something to do with you disappearing and losing your memories?"

Tom looked more than a little confused. "How'd you get there from pancakes?"

She shook her head, laughing at the absurdity of it. "It's… a memory, that's what got me there. I don't like pancakes."

"Good to know."

"Yeah," she said softly, biting her lip. "But Agnes loves them. Just like you."

He offered her a lopsided smile. "I figured that one out."

"I'm _hungry_ , Jacob!" Agnes called from the kitchen.

"Just a sec, kiddo." He turned back to Liz. "I don't know who took my memories, but I'm meeting with your memory specialist friend in an hour, so maybe that'll shed some light."

"An hour?" Liz demanded and finally looked over at the clock. When had it gotten so late in the morning? "I have to get Agnes to school and -"

"Okay."

The response drew her attention. "I want to be there."

"I didn't expect you to."

"Why?"

"You seemed pretty focused."

Liz's jaw slackened, but she couldn't find the words as old arguments that they'd had years before surfaced in her mind about her absolute focus on work and the strain it had put on them. Granted, some of that had been a front in their first marriage, but she knew at least some of that pain had been real for Tom. Back then, he'd felt like he always came second to whatever case she was fixated on. It had gotten better once she knew who he was and what he did, but it had always felt like a shadow ready to creep up on them.

She shook her head. "It's important, but so's meeting with Dr Orchard. I've done what you're about to do. You shouldn't do it alone." Liz didn't miss the tiniest of smiles that pulled at him and she looked at the clock. "Okay, I'll get her ready, you make breakfast, and I'll meet you at Orchard's office after dropping her off. Deal?"

"Sounds good," he agreed.

Okay. They could do this. Liz stood and motioned to Agnes. "You want the pink top or the red one?"

"Pink!" Agnes cheered and they were off to the races.

* * *

He hadn't known what to expect from a doctor that specialized in memory therapy, but Selma Orchard was one of the most patient medical professionals Jacob had ever met. He arrived first, as they had expected, and the doctor sat down with him. She confirmed a few pieces of vital information that Liz had spoken to her about and walked him through what she believed would be the best path for treatment. All the while Jacob sat there, trying to focus and yet finding himself constantly glancing at the clock with every stretch of minutes that Liz didn't walk through the door.

"Often this kind of therapy can do severe damage if not handled with care," Orchard warned. "We'll be using a cocktail of drugs to keep you in a twilight state, but there's still a chance your subconscious will fight it, and that can put a strain on both your mind and body. I have another patient today, so if you'd like to go through your first session, we need to start now. Is Agent Keen joining you or…?"

Jacob motioned and pulled out his phone, calling to check on her status. It rolled to voicemail almost immediately. The twinge of disappointment caught him a little off guard, but he plastered an easy smile on his face. "Looks like it's just us today, doc."

She looked like she might argue that for just a moment, but decided against it.

A few minutes later he was strapped into a chair - for his own safety, Orchard explained - and hooked up to a variety of machines that somehow felt vaguely familiar. The doctor's tone was soothing as she walked him through each step, asking him to take deep breaths and encouraging him not to be anxious. They would only go as far and as deep as his mind would release. Where would he like to start?

Jacob blinked hard, struggling through the first round of drugs that he hadn't realized were already dulling his senses. He pulled in a breath, released it, and went through the motion again. Liz trusted this woman and he trusted Liz. "I want to remember Liz," he managed, feeling a little sluggish as he turned toward Orchard.

"That's a bit…. broad. That's why I was hoping Agent Keen would be here. She could help guide you through. If we go in without any aim, you could end up anywhere."

"That's okay. I want to remember it all."

She hesitated a moment before finally nodding. "Okay, let's get started. Close your eyes and let yourself drift. You'll hear my voice and that will be your anchor. Can you hear me alright?"

"Yeah," he managed, and could already feel himself slipping deeper.

"You're fighting it. That's going to make things more difficult. You need to let go. You're safe here. We're going to help you find the answers you're looking for." There was a pause and Jacob had trouble identifying the sounds she was making. When she spoke again, her voice sounded a little further away. "I need you to picture Liz in your mind. Do you see her?"

He thought he made a small sound of acknowledgement as the woman that had quickly become the center of his universe appeared in his mind's eye.

"Good. Now let her lead you to a moment you shared. Your mind will know what is important if you'll let it."

The scene shifted around him and Jacob - Tom, his mind reminded him, and for the first time since this had all begun the name felt like it fit - found himself tumbling through glimpses of moments. They were jumbled and clipped, some moving so fast that he didn't have time to register anything more than a touch or a word whispered.

"Breathe, Tom," Orchard urged. "You're alright. You're safe. What do you see?"

"Too much," he managed and felt like he was spinning in place, trying to catch more than a wisp of a memory.

"It's okay. You don't need to remember everything right now. This is a process. I want you to find one thing to focus on. A sound or a place. Something that feels familiar."

She was smiling. Happy. Laughing. He followed it and found himself standing in what looked like a courtroom, her lips on his and he melted into the kiss. He loved her. He couldn't explain it, but as the kiss broke and he found her staring into his eyes, he knew it.

And he needed to know what took him away from her.

Everything shifted and suddenly he was standing in the middle of Agnes' room. There was a duffle bag in one hand and, while he couldn't place how he'd gotten there, there was a sense of urgency.

_Hide it._

He tucked it away in the back of the little girl's closet and made it to the living room in time to hear the door forced open.

* * *

It was like a memo had gone out encouraging people to take as much as they could of Liz's time. First it had been Agnes' teacher who had been determined that they needed to discuss one of Agnes' art projects, then DC traffic, and finally a call from Reddington who was as determined as Agnes' teacher to drag the conversation out. The difference was he was fishing for something. Liz just didn't care what at this point.

"Listen, I really need to go," she said as she killed the engine outside of Orchard's office. She was already so late.

" _Had you planned to tell me?_ "

The question stopped her midway as she slipped out of the vehicle. It only took half a beat before she covered it. "You're going to need to be a little more specific. What am I supposed to be telling you?"

She had been waiting for the shoe to drop on Tolliver's death, but she certainly didn't expect the name that he gave. " _Tom_."

Liz felt her blood run cold and she stopped just shy of entering the building. "Excuse me?"

" _I understand your husband is alive_."

"Who told you that?"

" _A mostly reliable source_ ," he answered with amusement purposefully lining his voice. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, his tone more solemn now. " _Why did you feel the need to keep this from me?_ "

Liz sighed and leaned back against the building, her head thumping lightly against it. "You were never exactly his biggest fan."

" _I saw what losing him did to you, Elizabeth. If I could have…_ " She heard him swallow hard, likely looking for words that didn't ring entirely hollow. He'd been the one that had cared more for his secret than her closure, after all. " _I would have spared you that pain if I had been able to. Has he told you what happened? Where—?_ "

"He doesn't remember," Liz said sharply as she turned and pushed through the front door.

" _I'd like to help you, Elizabeth. If you'll let me_."

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tension behind them. She'd blamed Scottie for this at first, but with the information they had now it looked more likely to be her mother rather than his that was responsible. If that were true she would need to be very careful how that information was released to Reddington. He'd loved her. No matter who he really was, anyone could see that. This was a delicate situation at best.

A shout that sounded like Tom startled her and she jerked around to look towards the room he and Orchard would be in. "I have to go."

She didn't give him time to argue as she ended the call and sprinted towards what sounded like a terrified Tom Keen.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Well that was a wild chapter :P

I think we've officially reached the point in the story where tons of little clues will regularly be threaded into each new chapter to build the overall tapestry.

 **Next Time** : Tom finds some truths, Katarina visits Dom, and Scottie Hargrave receives some startling news.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom finds some truths, Katarina visits Dom, and Scottie Hargrave receives some startling news.

Liz blew through the doors that led back to the rooms that Selma Orchard worked in. Tom was already laid back, hooked up to machines that were reading his vitals - vitals that were spiking, Liz couldn't help but notice - and an IV that was supposed to supply medication that kept this from happening. Though, if her own experiences were anything to go by, it only took one vivid memory to send the adrenaline through the roof to tear straight through the drugs that were meant to keep the person steady.

"Liz, here. Come here," Orchard demanded and Liz instantly followed the instruction.

Tom was mumbling under his breath, but as she inched closer she could hear her own name tumbling from his lips. She reached over, her movements careful and slow, and brushed back sweat-drenched hair. "Tom. Babe? Can you hear me?"

"... without you…" she caught and Liz leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He relaxed a little at that.

"Tom," Orchard called out and he turned towards her voice, even if his eyes weren't open. "I need you to follow my voice back. Can you do that?"

Liz reached down and took his hand, feeling him cling to it. She didn't dare speak, not sure if it would cause some sort of mishap in bringing him back around. He was struggling as it was.

Slowly those dark blue eyes started to open and he blinked heavily before they rolled around to focus on her. There was an awe in them. "You're here."

A pang of guilt rattled through her. "I'm sorry I was late."

"You couldn't open your eyes," he managed and suddenly Liz realized he was still half in a memory.

 _The_ memory.

"You remember?"

He squeezed his eyes closed again and groaned. "Pieces. There was a fight in the apartment, wasn't there? I hid something in Agnes' room. A bag of some kind."

"Yeah."

"The guy…. the big guy in the glasses. Just kept coming at me with the knife." He reached around and his fingers wrapped into the fabric of his t-shirt right over the scars. A shudder tore through him. "They nearly killed you."

"Do you remember what happened? After the hospital? Did my mother—?"

"Agent Keen," Orchard said softly, reeling her in. "As I'm sure you remember, the memory recovery process can be… taxing. Tom should rest."

"No, I'm good," he answered immediately, even if he didn't look it. He caught Selma's hesitant gaze. "I'm missing ten years. I need more than fractured moments the first day in."

"It will come," she promised. "Now that we've begun you'll start to retain more. Your mind knows to hold onto memories that slip through like dreams, so little by little you'll start rebuilding what you lost. It's a slow process, but a steady one."

"No," he snapped. "That can't be it. Please. I'm good to go again. You said you wanted Liz here to guide me through. She's here."

Orchard seemed to consider that for a moment. "Okay. Something calm. Preferably something happy. That's the safer route right now."

Tom's fingers closed around hers. "How'd we meet?"

Liz felt an unusual sense of peace wash over her. "At a cafe almost ten years ago now."

As she started in on the story Orchard reminded her to paint a picture. She talked about the setting, the weather, and what had brought them there. Every inch of it was etched into her memory and Tom's eyes drifted shut.

* * *

If he'd felt what it meant to be Tom Keen in the first memory of the day, this one felt closer to who he'd been the last couple of years. The master spy, the dangerous operative. Tom Keen was only a cover in that moment and as the memory played out across his mind's eye, that was the only reality he could focus on.

There was a woman - Ellie - who Jacob had befriended as a way to find an in and keep an eye on Elizabeth… Scott. She'd been Scott then. He'd only meant to keep an eye on her from a distance. That had been the job. A friend of a friend. Instead that friend had taken the opportunity to set up a blind date between them and wouldn't take no for an answer, and Jacob could only argue so much. He'd go, have coffee, chat with her for a little bit, and lean into the fact that he'd built the Tom Keen cover as someone she'd never look twice at.

The memory shifted and if he listened closely he could hear Liz's voice. "Where are you?"

"Standing at the entrance," he answered, the words sounding strange from inside the memory. "I see you."

She was sitting at the table waiting, and when she looked up at him and their eyes met, somehow he knew this was the moment he'd lost control of the job that he had been put on. This was the beginning of the end of Jacob Phelps. The beginning of what he'd seen evidence of since he'd found himself as on her doorstep, soaked through, and having left St Regis with more questions than answers. He'd needed to know how he got there. The path he'd taken and why she looked at him like she did. Why she treated him the way she did.

Like she loved him. Like he was special to her.

The memory played out and Jacob Phelps melted away for Tom Keen, real pieces of his personality that he'd never dared let show in his own dangerous world slipping through and Liz latching onto them.

As the memory faded away, Orchard's voice guiding him back despite the desperation to stay, he found the same woman sitting off to his side that had lit up the memory. She was a little older, but so was he, and that smile still warmed him like the sun.

"You had me then," he breathed. "I just didn't know it at the time."

Her smile grew just a little. "You've said that before." She brushed back his hair, her touch gentle and she leaned down to press a soft kiss against his lips.

The memory may not have answered everything, but in its own way Jacob - Tom - thought it answered more than he could have ever been willing to ask.

* * *

Things were always easier at a distance. In the same way no sane person wanted a distraught brain surgeon to crack their skull open, an operative couldn't afford to let personal feeling get in the way of the job. Even when the job was personal. It took cold precision to set up an operation, moving people like pawns on a chessboard into place to be useful when the hour called for it. One wrong move could blow the op and get everyone in the game killed.

Katarina had put distance between herself and the precious few people that she cared over the years to try to take them out of the game entirely. Raymond had been the first to push for it, and when Christopher Hargrave's abduction hadn't swayed her, the fire had. Masha had gotten her hands on a gun - a child that was only trying to protect, with no understanding of the power she wielded in her tiny hands - and Fitch hadn't trusted Katarina to finish what she'd started. He'd sent people after them, and as close as they had all come to losing their lives that night, she had finally given way.

Then she had split from her mother, then her father, from Ilya, and then, finally, from Raymond. Little good it had done any of them.

Raymond likely told himself that he had had good reason for barreling back into her life, but he had pulled Masha back into the crosshairs, and by doing so had set off a chain reaction that had put their daughter's life on the line again and again. Fitch, Kotsiopoulos, Solomon, and Constantine, just to name a few. Then there was the business with the bones. Katarina had increased her eyes and ears when she heard her daughter had publicly announced that she was Masha Rostova and was being hunted, but Raymond's foolishness in handling Kate had exposed his secret and tilted a precarious situation to set the dominos falling. And then, when she thought he wouldn't dare expose them further, Townsend had reenacted his Directive and a light had been shone on the age-old conflict. Of course Raymond felt the need to play white knight, and it had landed them where they were right then.

She'd been told he had been on a ventilator and the fact he was breathing on his own now was a good sign, but all Katarina saw as she sat quietly at her father's bedside was a man who had loved and hated her with more fire than a parent had right to have and the safeguard that he and Ilya had put in place to protect Katarina had nearly gotten him killed.

"She's dead, you know."

She could feel Raymond's eyes on her, even if her own remained fixed on Dom. "Who?"

"You know who," she answered, her voice cold. "The bitch that did this to him."

There was a long moment before Raymond loosed a tired sigh. "She offered to help. She never offered to be the sacrificial lamb."

"She was paid for her troubles."

"She was asked to give up everything to protect a woman she idolized for a man she adored. Then, even in hiding, Dom and Ilya took what little life she'd found for herself."

"Are you defending her?"

"Merely stating that there were clear risks to the actions that they chose to take that came back around years later."

"She wasn't an innocent, even then," Katarina murmured.

"None of us were." She looked up and found him watching her. "She's gone now."

"Only because I saw her for what she was: a threat."

"Of our own making."

"A threat, nevertheless." She turned her attention back to her father, and for the briefest moment she considered taking his hand in hers. Instead she cleared her throat. "I suppose it would be pointless to tell you we could use Ilya in all of this."

"He's gone, Kat."

"We could find him if we tried."

"Leave him be. He's done."

"Always so protective of him. He's stronger than you give him credit for."

"That doesn't mean he deserves to suffer for it."

"None of us deserve this, Raymond."

"Don't we?"

She hated when he was like this. Stubborn and playing the part of the martyr that they both knew he was not. They all had regrets. Raymond just let his burrow in like a tick.

Time to readjust. "Did you know that they're keeping Howard Hargrave tucked away in some tiny town in Texas of all places?"

"I'm not reaching out to him."

"We need him."

"He and I are hardly on speaking terms."

"At least he liked you once. He's always hated me."

"He knew what you were capable of."

She snorted softly and looked up as the doctor poked his head in. Katarina stood before Raymon had the chance to kick her out. "Dembe? Take a walk with me?" she asked the all-but-forgotten man sitting quietly in the corner pretending to read. She could still remember the malnourished, angry teenager Raymond had found all those years ago. He'd come so far since then, and she would have wagered he was the one that kept Raymond's head above water.

Dembe made a small sound of acknowledgement and followed her out of the makeshift room.

Katarina led him up the stairs to the roof, asking about his little girl that was grown with a daughter of her own now. He answered, his sentences short and she could hardly blame him. She had always known more about him than he had known about her.

They reached the roof and Katarina turned sharply. "How long?"

Dembe blinked, his confusion appearing genuine. "I don't know what you mean."

"How long has Raymond been sick?" His expression closed off even more than it had been and she resisted the urge to sigh. "He's shifted his assets, made Masha his sole heir, and has begun to pay off any remaining debts."

"This is a conversation you should have with Raymond."

"You and I both know he won't admit anything until he's forced to, and simply knowing isn't leverage. I saw the pills. They're not for my father." She waited, but Dembe gave her nothing. Katarina closed her eyes and pushed a breath out through her nose. "The war is coming if he wants it or not. Our deaths won't stop it."

"Whose fault is that?" Dembe asked quietly, his gaze sharp and focused on her. "He is dying, Katarina."

"And don't you want to save him?" There. She saw it. The shift was subtle, but she had his interest. Well, she had to start somewhere.

* * *

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving New York City bustling under electric lights rather than natural. Foot traffic moved away from the financial district and the sound of drivers laying down on their horns was muffled from eighty stories above. It was surreal being able to look out her office windows and watch it all so removed. A bird's eye view, but if something were to happen on the street at that very moment she would be powerless to do more than watch.

But that was life, wasn't it? From her vantage point she could see as things started to unravel but, even with her power and influence, she could do little to stop it.

A knock at her office drew Scottie Hargrave's attention and she lifted an eyebrow at Kat Carlson who lingered there. "I thought you left out already."

"I've been following down something that came in. I didn't want to bring it to you until I confirmed the information." She held out a physical file.

Scottie's interest piqued as she set her scotch glass in her desk to exchange it for the offered intel. Kat looked nervous. That was never a good sign. She flipped it open.

"You and Howard had the search set up from before. I suppose it was never discontinued, because the alert came in this afternoon. Someone ran his DNA."

Kat's lilt sounded further and further away as Scottie scanned the documents, feeling her breath catch in her chest. "And you've… confirmed it?" she asked carefully.

"You played it close, but…. I know how much losing him again hurt you. I made sure. The photos were taken less than an hour ago. They just came in from one of our more discreet operatives in D.C."

Scottie flipped the page to reveal the photo in question and, sure as she had said it, it was time stamped less than an hour before. The operative had managed to capture a photo of three people she knew well. Her daughter-in-law, her granddaughter, and her son.

Trembling fingers touched Tom's face. He looked tired, maybe even a little sick, but very, very much alive.

Her vision blurred and she cleared her throat, desperately trying to keep her voice steady. "Have the jet fueled and ready within the hour," she instructed. "We're going to DC."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : I was so excited to get a chance to bring Scottie into the mix. I miss her almost as much as I miss Tom. She was a blast.

 **Next Time** : Ressler and Park follow a lead to Bonn, Scottie arrives in DC, and Tom hits a wall with his memory therapy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ressler and Park follow a lead to Bonn, Scottie arrives in DC, and Tom hits a wall with his memory therapy.

Cooper had sent Ressler in as lead to Bonn in part because he needed a seasoned agent with a deep understanding of the delicate nature of their situation, but Ressler was also the one with a contact there. He had known Mike Weiss in Quantico and the two had traded favours over the years, especially when Ressler had been abroad so often with the first Reddington Task Force. He was always good for a few beers, a collection of absurd stories, and - if Ressler was lucky - an answer or two if he could get him around to it. Weiss was the kind of guy everybody liked and he loved to be the center of attention. It didn't hurt to gather intelligence either.

He motioned for another round and Ressler heard Park's less-than-subtle sound of annoyance as she excused herself for a moment. Weiss chuckled. "That one's wound up almost as tight as you used to be."

Ressler's lips quirked you at the corners. "She's a good agent."

"Most people that tightly wound have something to hide."

"I'll vouch for her."

"I don't care. I know you. I know you're clean. So listen fast." His voice dipped a little so that it was hard to hear him over the music and the chatter. "Emilia Schmitz isn't a name you want to toss around in this town. She's a ghost that supposedly died around the time the Berlin Wall fell. She was East Berlin and vicious."

"What's she doing here?"

Weiss quirked an eyebrow. "What makes you think she's here?"

"A case I'm working. There was a man named Petrov that blackmailed a German attaché to deliver a file. We think it was being sent to Schmitz. What do you know about her?"

"I know mentioning her name can get you killed." He took a long drink from his stein. "Maybe… eight or nine years ago her name came across our radar for a case. Had these partners that were like bloodhounds. Mick and Jamie. They could find anyone with just a scrap to go on."

"Could?" Ressler echoed.

"They'd just started making progress when Mick got hit crossing the street late one night. Car drove off without stopping and left him bleeding in the street. He didn't make it to the hospital. Jamie picks up the trail, right? She's pissed, swears up and down it had to be Schmitz somehow. Three days later we found her dead in her flat. Local cops ruled it a suicide and I got word in from D.C. to drop the case."

"Did you?"

Weiss offered a small shrug. "Alan Fitch made the call himself. You don't exactly tell the Assistant Director of National Intelligence no."

Ressler made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Saying you will and doing it are two different things."

"What'd I miss?" Park asked as she returned and Ressler watched his old friend's expression close off.

"Just reminiscing about Donnie's mishap with the lap pool second week into training," Weiss answered lightly and that was that. The rest of the night was chatter and a frustrated Park, even as Ressler worked through the details of the story and the fact that a known Cabal leader had been the one to cut the case off at the knees.

As they wrapped it up for the night Weiss - a little clingy that many beers in - wrapped an arm around Ressler's shoulders, pulling him in and hanging into the front of his jacket. "You got one of the best here," he told Park and she tried not to look as irritated as she clearly felt. "Sorry I couldn't get you what you needed."

Weiss offered Ressler one more squeeze and sauntered off. Park rolled her eyes as they started for the door. "What a waste of time."

"Maybe not," Ressler mumbled as he patted at his own jacket, feeling something that felt suspiciously like a jump drive in his inside pocket. Leave it to Weiss. The bastard always had had a flare for the dramatic.

* * *

Liz remembered her own memory extraction had left her feeling violated and in desperate need of solitude and a shower from the inside out. She'd been taken and drugged against her will only to find out that she'd been used as a child to traffic one of the most dangerous blackmail files that the world had seen. It still left her unsettled all these years later and the vague reference that Krilov had made after Ressler's equally twisted experience with him to the fact that he'd screwed around with her mind yet again only made it worse. Part of her wondered if, after Tom had his memories back, she should speak with Selma about trying to find out what had been altered or taken from her the second time, or if it had just been an attempt to throw her off her game. If history had taught her anything it was that the not knowing was just as dangerous as knowing in the life she led. Another part, though, didn't want to crack open yet another round of danger. Maybe when this was over she should just be done.

Not that Reddington would let her.

Thankfully Tom's experience with the memory extraction hadn't been quite as horrifying. At least it wasn't all bad. Where Liz's buried memories were filled with smoke and fire and gunshots, Tom had a mixed bag. He had been exhausted after the session, falling asleep next to her on the couch as she'd worked. It hadn't been until late that evening that the nightmares had crept in, but even as he'd come flying off the couch like he was ready for a fight he could only remember pieces of what he'd seen. It was something they would have to talk to Orchard about when they saw her later that day.

Before that, though, Liz needed to get Agnes safely dropped off at school.

The four year old had wanted nothing to do with leaving the apartment that morning. Liz wasn't sure if Tom had won all that affection through pancakes for breakfast since Agnes had re-met him or if she remembered him on some level. Their kid had always been more intuitive than Liz thought was possible and she'd loved her daddy before he had been snatched away from them. He could always get her to laugh, that giggle filling the whole apartment and he was all she'd known in the first month of her life. Even in the painfully short time that they had had in Cuba together after they'd run, Liz had seen it. Tom had changed over the years, but Agnes had taken that growth to a whole new level. Now, even at the beginning of the process that they hoped could return his memories, she saw that connection between dad and daughter, and it had been a chore to get her out the door without him.

Now she just had to get her to her classroom and they'd be doing alright.

"Grandma!" Agnes squealed, pulling Liz out of her thoughts as they crossed the parking lot.

She tugged her hand almost free, but Liz clamped down a little harder just in time. "Hey, you know not to let go of my hand with cars around," she chided softly and followed to where Agnes had tried to run.

Scottie Hargrave stood on the sidewalk, her skirt and sleeveless blouse perfectly pressed and a sharp look fixed on Liz. It softened as it shifted to Agnes, and as they reached the safety of the sidewalk, Liz let her go. Scottie showing up without warning couldn't be a good sign. Let the grandkid work her charm on her first.

Agnes flung her arms around Scottie's long legs. "Hiiiii! Mommy didn't say you were here!"

"I thought I'd surprise you," Scottie answered, her tone light.

"But I gotta go to school," Agnes pouted and looked to Liz like she hoped she'd give her another option.

"Yep. School's a must," Liz answered.

"What about this?" Scottie asked and there was something in her tone that said as much as Liz was willing to let Agnes' natural adorableness soften whatever Scottie was about to drop on her, Scottie was willing to use her granddaughter to get her foot in the door. "I'll pick you up after school and we can get ice cream?"

Oh…. Liz never stood a chance against ice cream.

"Ice cream!" Agnes cheered and hugged Scottie again. "Love you, Grandma!"

She started towards the door where her teacher was waiting. "Hey, what about me?" Liz called after her, her lips quilting up at the corners in a teasing smile.

"Love you, Mom!" Agnes shouted with a wave and was gone.

"She's just like Tom was at her age," Scottie mused softly and Liz would have bet a sizable chunk of change that she knew exactly what Scottie was doing there. Her mother-in-law turned a look on her.

Liz squared her shoulders just a little. "Why don't we get out of the pathway?"

"No, I think we should have this conversation right here." Brown eyes caught hold of blue and the older woman held her gaze. "I'm not sure what I did to offend you."

"What makes you think I'm offended?"

"I took Agnes in for _months_ so that you would have time to process everything and grieve. I understood. I was mourning him too." Her tone was biting, the boiling rage just barely kept under control. "I kept it to myself because I thought you needed time. I suffered in silence so you could heal and that sweet little girl - my Christopher's little girl - wouldn't suffer like we did. And this is how you repay me. Why?"

Liz bit back the first snarky reply that came to mind and then crushed down the truth that she'd suspected Scottie at first. That wouldn't do either of them any good now. Instead, she stepped off the path and under a tree, waiting for Scottie to move with her. "Because I just found out he's alive."

"Is that so? When? Because there had to have been enough time for you to tell that insufferable partner of yours and for him to run a DNA test. Did you really think —"

Well, at least Liz knew how Scottie had found out. She would deal with Ressler later. "A week and a half ago," she cut her husband's mother off. Might as well fill her in at this point or she'd start digging and who knows what she would throw off balance. Liz had never wanted Scottie for an enemy. "He lost about a decade's worth of memories. He didn't remember me or Agnes. It's been…. busy."

She watched shock slowly settle if Scottie's features. "Is he…. alright?"

"Mostly. He's been working at St Regis. It was the last thing he knew when he woke up, he said."

"How did that bring him to DC?"

"A job. He was hired to…. We're still sorting it all out."

"There are people and methods that can help with that. Let me—"

"I know. I've had it done." Scottie turned to look at her a little more sharply than the statement warranted.

"Had what done?"

"Memory extraction. It's a long story and one that I'd rather not get into outside my daughter's school if you don't mind."

Scottie pursed her lips. "Do you think his memories were taken on purpose?"

"Seems to be that way. We don't know for sure by who yet. It's…. a really delicate situation."

"Yes." Liz could see the woman's clever mind spinning and brown eyes met blue. "I'd like to see him."

"Scottie…."

"I need to see my son," she pressed. There was a desperation in her voice and there were tears forming in her eyes. She was a strange woman for the CEO of a company that dealt in spycraft. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, but the more Liz had gotten to know her, the more she suspected that it was a tactic.

Even so, she knew how much Scottie loved Tom and how much Tom had come to love his mother.

"Let me talk to him. He's been…. overwhelmed, but I'll talk to him."

"I'll be in town."

"You better be you owe your granddaughter ice cream after school," Liz answered with a small smile.

Every moment there seemed to be a new complication added. Something that made an impossible situation that much more difficult. Scottie knew. Okay. She could deal with that. She could even use that, potentially. It was the fact that Ressler hadn't trusted her enough to let her know what he was doing. He'd snagged DNA from Tom - likely from something left behind at his apartment the night he'd stayed there - and sent it out without saying a word. As soon as he got back from Germany, Liz was going to have a chat with him.

* * *

For as well as the session the day before had gone - at least after Liz had gotten there - this one kept getting sidetracked. Even with Liz next to him, her voice working as a tether to better things, his mind kept trying to go a different direction. The result was fractured memories joining together like a Picasso painting. Nothing made sense and he couldn't find a way to break through and make it.

Tom loosed a frustrated breath as he felt himself being pulled out of it and then he was back in Selma Orchard's clinic, strapped back in a chair and hooked up to machinery. Liz reached out, her hand in his forearm and he tugged away, the movement making him realize he had already been unstrapped from the chair. "We're not done."

"For today we are," Orchard answered.

"You took me out too soon. I could've gotten there," he growled, his voice sounding as agitated as he felt.

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. "This isn't something you can push, Tom. Not without substantial risks."

"And if I'm willing to take those?" he shot back.

"Then it may cost your life and that defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Orchard asked pointedly. "I have another patient like you. She had trouble with limitations at first too. She wanted something she could fight. It took a while for her to understand that you do more damage by pushing past the limits your mind and body are clearly setting than working within them."

"What happened once she got that?" Liz asked.

"She started to improve. Little things, but better a half a step forward than two back," Orchard answered. "And you have something she doesn't."

"What's that?" Tom grumbled, not really in the mood for some life lesson about patience his second day in.

"The ability to surround yourself with what your mind has forgotten. Your wife, your daughter, your home. I know you didn't have a breakthrough today like yesterday, but that doesn't mean we didn't push at those blocks that have been put in place. Think of it like a dam holding back water. You're putting cracks in it with the work we're doing. As the dam weakes, memories could start to slip through when triggered by external forces."

"Happened with me," Liz said softly from his side and Tom felt a sudden and unfamiliar wave of guilt for pulling away from her. He reached out and she took the offered hand as Orchard continued.

"The more you surround yourself with the familiar, the more likely you are to find yourself remembering things." She glanced over at Liz. "Why don't I give you two some time to talk?"

"Thanks," Liz answered and Tom tightened his fingers around hers.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"Pulling away. For… You've done nothing but help me."

"I love you," she said softly. "And we will get there. I promise."

He sighed heavily, letting his head drop back against the rest behind him. He could feel the ache coming on and all he could do was hope it didn't turn into a full blown migraine.

"So Scottie showed up at Agnes' school this morning."

"Remind me who that is?" Tom asked tiredly.

"Your mother."

That drew his attention. "Is that normal?"

"No. She found out you're alive. Apparently Ressler ran your DNA."

"Asshole."

Liz snorted a laugh at that. "I'll handle Ress, but with what Orchard said, this might be a good opportunity."

"What? You want me to meet this woman?"

"You guys got… well, you were getting close when everything happened." Her other hand came up to cover his, almost like she needed as much of a reminder as she could get that he was right there. "She wanted to have dinner. If you feel up for it, maybe it'll knock something loose?"

He thought about it for a long moment, trying to conjure an image of the woman Liz was talking about in his mind, but he had nothing. Not a glimpse of the woman that Liz had said - despite what Bud had told him and that Tom had believed growing up - loved him.

"Okay," he breathed at last. "Let's give it a shot."

That smile of hers could light a room, and as Liz leaned in and kissed him, he felt some of the frustration ease away.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Well, Ress is busted. Good thing he walked away with a successful trip to Germany at least?

 **Next Time** : The Keens have dinner with Scottie, Red takes a trip down to Texas, and Ressler runs into trouble.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keens have dinner with Scottie, Red takes a trip down to Texas, and Ressler runs into trouble.

Liz had just wrapped Agnes in a fluffy towel after her bath when she heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen. She kissed her daughter's hair that had - somehow and miraculously - stayed dry through the bath - and told her to put the clothes hanging up on. Grandma Scottie was coming for dinner.

Tom still looked tired, albeit less frustrated than he'd been while they were at Dr Orchard's. She stood watching him move around the kitchen and he almost looked like he knew where things were. She thought it might have just been his quick learning curve until he went for a specific cabinet and then looked very confused by what he found there.

"What are you looking for?"

"One of those big saucepans. I could have sworn-"

"I moved it up because I don't use it very often." She watched him follow through to the cabinet she motioned at. "You remembered where it was."

Tom blinked, surprised, and Liz felt a small smile creep into place as he said: "Guess I did." He grabbed the pan he needed and set it on the burner. He looked so natural there, almost like he had never left. He had, there was no denying the damage done to their lives, but as he started working in the sauce Liz felt a rare tug of peace. She wanted to hold onto that as long as the universe would let her.

"You don't have to cook, you know," she said as she moved to lean against the table, never taking her eyes off of him.

She could see the barest smiles pull at the corner of his lips. "I feel like you're not much of a cook."

"I've gotten a little better."

"Not sure if it's a memory or just a survival instinct, but I'm gonna play it safe on this one."

Liz flashed a grin that felt a little more forced as someone knocked on the door. Well, Scottie was early. "Aggie, you dressed?" she called into the little girl's room as she passed.

"My ears!" Agnes' voice sounded from inside, but Liz was already tugging the door open to reveal her mother-in-law on the other side.

She had never seen Scottie Hargrave look anything less than ready to stride straight into a boardroom in her tailored outfits and heels and tonight was no different. She stood in the doorway with her head held high and her thousand dollar purse on her arm, but under it all the younger woman thought she saw a hint of nerves. Okay. At least the last sliver of suspicion could be put away.

Liz flashed a smile. "Hey, come on in. Tom's in the kitchen."

"How is he—?"

The question was cut off as Agnes' door was thrown all the way open and she piled out of her room in the clothes that Liz had laid out for her, though with an addition of her own by way of the cat ears headband. She wrapped herself around Scottie's long legs and grinned up at her. "Hi."

"It's like you didn't see me today," Scottie teased with a smile and knelt down to pull her granddaughter into a hug. "I hear you've had a visitor."

Agnes nodded. "Daddy's in here," announced, surprising Liz and taking Scottie by the hand to lead her in. They hadn't said anything, there was no way she should have known, but Liz supposed with all the oddities that surrounded her daughter since birth there was no reason that she shouldn't have believed it either. Just another strange happening in the Keen household.

Liz followed at their heels to find Agnes already chattering away, pulling up a chair to stand on so that she could see what Tom was doing. He stirred at the sauce that was simmering, teasing the little girl playfully while Scottie stood frozen next to the kitchen table. Her dark gaze was fixed on him, following every tiny move, until he finally turned around as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. "You must be Scottie."

"Agnes, why don't you go play until dinner's ready," Liz prompted softly.

She looked ready to argue, but finally hopped off her perch with a loud and dramatic huff that lasted almost to her room. Scottie's lips twitched up at the show the four-year-old has put on and her attention snapped back toTom. "She's always reminded me so much of you," she said softly.

"I don't know how much Liz has told you…."

"I know that someone has manipulated your memories and that you're missing a considerable amount of time."

Tom's dark blue gaze flickered to Liz and she tried for a reassuring smile. "Yeah. I, uh…. I don't remember you. Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Scottie answered immediately, but Liz didn't miss that subtle anger just under the words. Well, when they did find who was responsible for Tom's missing memories, Scottie looked ready to go to war with them. It couldn't hurt to have the CEO of Halcyon Aegis in their corner.

Scottie plastered a struggling smile on her face as she shifted the subject. "So, what's for dinner?"

* * *

Howard Hargrave had been a civilian engineer when Red had first met him. Halcyon was in its infancy and its young, still-optimistic CEO had happened by and offered to play translator for a Polish woman with intel that Reddington's team had needed. Their interaction had been so brief that it wasn't until years later that the two men pieced it together and had gotten a good laugh over it. Yet another amusing story in a collection of them that they cultivated over the years.

Many things had changed since those days, and it had been years since Reddington had even seen his old friend. Christopher's disappearance from the beach house coupled with a variety of other factors - both connected and otherwise - has left Howard unpredictable and not entirely stable. It had only gotten worse with time. Red had finally put distance between them when it became clear that Howard didn't have any intentions of adjusting the dangerous trajectory that he had been hurdling in. Tom's return had been too late and Howard suspected too much to put him right again. Red feared that losing his son a second time - even at a distance - might have done him in.

That's why he was surprised to find out that Howard wasn't rotting away in some deep, dark hole like the government often threatened to throw him into, or even a mental institution for that matter. He found him in a little military town in Texas working for the government. He was tethered by an ankle monitor and given a very small stipend for his efforts if the shabby, bachelor-styled apartment was anything to go by. Perhaps they really had thrown him in a hole, just of a different sort.

Reddington had time to explore the small space before Howard arrived. There was nothing there that would have convinced him that his old friend lived within the walls. Howard had always been a nostalgic man in his own way, but none of that resonated here. Red saw no sign of hidden research or projects he was tackling on his own. Just the mindless day in and day out with a little food and an uncomfortable bed between it.

By the time the door opened Reddington had settled into the lone chair at a two-person breakfast table that could be folded up and shoved in a corner if it needed to be. Howard shuffled in, shouting over his shoulder at someone, before fumbling with the locks behind him. He turned and flipped the fluorescent lights on, freezing as he did. "Red?"

Reddington plastered one of his more charming smiles into place. "Howard. You are a difficult man to find. I thought you'd be in prison."

The other man snorted, tossing the keys down on the cheap counter next to the door. "Why lock me away when I'm still of some use?"

He moved further into the living space and Reddington gave him a once over. For the first time since he'd met him, Howard looked his age. His hair had receded years ago and what was left had turned grey, but the lines in his face looked deeper now and there was a weight against his shoulders. Worse yet, there was none of that old spark in his eye. As far down as his enemies had driven him over the years, that clever spark had remained. Reddington had seen it a little over three years before when he had stood before the cameras and declared war on his wife for the whole nation to see.

"You look like hell," Reddington said, his tone more pointed than light. Nothing about this boded well.

Howard shrugged and moved to the fridge. He stuck his head in and returned with a couple of beers in hand. Reddington did his best not to turn his nose up. Ah well. When in Rome. Or Texas, as it were.

"Long days, meaningless nights. They weigh on you like life," Howard answered heavily and leaned against the table, his sole chair occupied.

"What if I told you I could change all that?"

"I'd ask you what you get out of it," Howard answered sharply.

"Katarina has resurfaced."

"So now you're playing fetch for her?"

Reddington's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know what it means. This isn't a game."

"Sure it is. One I bowed out of _ages_ ago." He took a long swig of his beer. "Save your effort, Red. And whatever money you intended to bribe my guards with. I'm done. I'm out. She's won."

"Your war was never with Scottie," Reddington answered softly and Howard quirked a grey eyebrow.

"Wasn't it? It was her secrets that stole our boy away and the same that ended up getting him killed. You and I both know this Garvey was more than what he seemed." Howard had always been fascinated with conspiracy theories, and while he often found a trail that turned out to be more than it appeared, Garvey was gone. Dead. Reddington had made sure of it. Digging into the man himself would yield very little.

"None of it would have happened if you hadn't reached out," Reddington pointed out.

"None of it would have happened if you'd been half the friend you claimed to be thirty years ago and gotten my boy back!" Howard countered, the old argument rearing its head. "But no. You were too busy learning from my mistakes. Then you turn around, years later, and tell him that Scottie was his mother while telling him to stay clear of _me_! Of course I went to him. She'd have gotten her claws in and…" He stopped, the fit of rage he had been boiling to fizzling out abruptly and he turned a dark look on Red. "My boy is dead, my wife a traitor willing to kill me. That's what your war brought to my doorstep, Red. I'm not going to help you."

Red sat very still for a long moment. He'd underestimated the pain and suffering Howard had endured these last two and a half years. At the very least he had hoped to push the right buttons to encourage a lust for revenge, but he was too hurt. Too broken. He had heard the charges levied against him at his trial. Accounts of reckless endangerment, theft, perjury, espionage, and the list went on. Tom had testified against him after everything that had happened. He'd stood in front of an open jury as Christopher Hargrave and no one had warned him the dangers of it. Clearly Howard thought it was what had gotten him killed, and that was a hell of a weight to bear. Red didn't need to know the specifics of what he'd done to know that, at least in the recesses of his own mind, Howard had thought he was protecting his child.

Red leaned in. "We're past the point of no return on this."

"I don't care."

"You're willing to rot here?"

"Here. There. What's the difference?"

Red toyed with his options. He could tell him. It was a risk in his state. He knew Katarina we'll enough to know Scottie would, eventually, be brought into the middle of this as well. Howard would be difficult to convince, but perhaps if he could manage to connect him with his son before Scottie… that might work. It was time for a calculated risk or he'd be walking out of this place empty handed. "He's alive."

Howard didn't perk at that. "Who?"

"Christopher."

Now he looked up. "Don't lie to me, Red."

"I'm not, he—"

There was a change, a flash of rage, and Howard hurled the beer bottle so that it shattered against the floor. "My son is dead. You don't get to use him as a bargaining chip, Red. You don't get to manipulate me into sticking my nose into the same chaos that got him killed in the first place. The three of you made your bed. Lie in it or don't. I don't care, but get the hell out."

Reddington sat there for a long moment before he finally stood, fitting his hat back on his head. "For what it's worth, Howard, he can't remember anything. He's lost time."

"Convenient way of using a double to try to fool me."

And there were the conspiracies again, even if it weren't as far fetched as some might have thought. Red has used a double, but just not here and now. "Point being that he doesn't remember your last interaction." He sighed. "Not everyone is your enemy unless you choose to make them. I may be one of the few friends left in this world. Reach out when you finish wallowing in your self pity."

He turned and left before Howard could respond. If he would given way or buckled down, Reddington wasn't sure, but if there were anything left of the Howard Hargrave he had once known he wouldn't be able to shake the hope of his son being alive. It would gnaw at him until he had no choice but to act.

* * *

Ressler hadn't realized just how easily spoiled to flying private he'd managed to become over the years, but the delayed flight out of Germany and delayed layover at LaGuardia International had left him missing Reddington's jet, even if not the interference he certainly would have thrown into their case. No, after what he'd done to their Blacklister when they had refused to give him five minutes with the man. He might have given them the name that took them to Bonn, but Ressler's be damned if he forked over the jumpdrive Weiss had risked so much to get to him.

Still, it was late and Ressler was exhausted. He could miss the convenience of a private jet without missing the man that provided it.

He shifted his bag on his shoulder and fumbled for his keys just outside of his front door, but as he slid it into the lock and turned, he could feel that the mechanisms had already been released. That wasn't good.

The bag dropped to the hall floor as Ressler reached for his sidearm, readying himself as he pushed the front door open. The living room looked clear as far as his line of sight reached and he inched in, every muscle taught and finger ready on the trigger. He cleared the kitchen and the living room, the bathroom, and that only left one more room in the apartment. He flexed his fingers around the handle on his gun, adjusting his grip and he pulled a deep breath in through his nose as he started into the bedroom. He made it half a step through the door frame before the door swung out hard.

The blow hadn't been what he expected, but even as he stumbled off balance he kept his grip on his gun. Ressler spun, leveling it, but his attacker was already there. He was a tall and thick man, well out of Ressler's own weight class, and the shot went into the ceiling when he slammed his arm upward. He spun faster than he should have been able to and Ressler heard his own yelp of pain rattling in his ears before realizing that the intruder had followed through and wrenched his arm around so hard that it must have popped it out of socket.

Ressler didn't have time to test the theory as the man descended on him again, but he managed to avoid the blow if only just barely. He bobbed, finding his right arm utterly useless, and was sent sprawling to the floor hard. He lay there for a moment, stunned, and blinked hard against the pain as his attacker loomed over him. "The drive," he said simply and Ressler grimaced. He could see his gun on the floor, but he'd have to be faster.

"Don't know what you're talking about, pal."

The other man snorted and pulled his own weapon from its holster. "I don't believe you."

Ressler roller for his gun and the shot went off.

* * *

Dinner went surprisingly well. They tiptoed around certain subjects until Agnes went to her room to play, but as soon as she was out of earshot it was clear that Scottie Hargrave expected more. She had been pleasant and chatty about a lot of nothing right up until that point. A cover. A well designed mask. Tom knew it well, even if no memories seemed to be shaking loose about her just yet.

He worked his way through what he knew, he and Liz reading each other's small tells to make sure they didn't let information slip that shouldn't. He was careful never to mention Katarina Rostova by name, but something like recognition flashed through Scottie's eyes as Liz shared a few choice details about the woman that had called herself both Maddie Tolliver and Rostova.

Liz excused herself as her cell phone rang, stepping into the bedroom to take the call. Almost immediately Scottie turned to him. "The woman that hired you."

"Tremblay?" he asked carefully.

"Are you certain that's her name?"

"Are you certain it's not?" he countered.

"I understand your… caution," she said slowly, almost as if she were tasting each word. "This woman. I need to know what you know."

There was something strangely familiar about the way she was looking at him. Her gaze was calculating and careful, like she thought she could unearth any secrets by sheer determination. He held it though, and felt like he might be on the verge of remembering something important about her.

"Scottie, we're going to have to cut this short," Liz said as she blew back into the room.

"Elizabeth-"

"Ressler was just attacked in his apartment. I have to go."

Tom was on his feet in an instant. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I need to get a babysitter and -"

"Go," Scottie said firmly. "I'll watch Agnes."

Tom watched Liz hesitate for a long moment before she nodded, accepting the offer. Within five minutes she'd kissed Agnes goodbye, grabbed her gun, and pulled him out the door behind her.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Well, Becca called it in the reviews: my whump quota strikes again. Aimed at Ress this time :P

I don't know if I've mentioned this here (I chatter about it quite a bit on Tumblr), but I'm been working towards a move to California for a while now. This weekend I'm flying out and signing a least if all works as expected. Wish me luck! :D

 **Next Time** : A new clue emerges in the case, Scottie sets a clandestine meeting, and Liz forces Red's hand.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new clue emerges in the case, Scottie sets a clandestine meeting, and Liz forces Red's hand.

They weren't the first to arrive at the Post Office. Park stood with Aram at his desk, the two deep in discussion. Neither looked up as the faded yellow doors of the lift creaked open loudly and Liz led the way into the underground blacksite. "Have you heard anything?" she asked, finally drawing their attention.

Both Aram and Park blinked, dragged out of their deep conversation. Park recovered first. "Yeah, they released him already. He's upstairs with Cooper."

"Did he get a look at the intruder?"

The other woman quirked a dark eyebrow. "A good one. He's dead. Ressler shot him."

Park had been so vague on the phone when she'd called earlier that Liz hadn't known what to assume, but now - thankfully - it seemed like the worst wasn't it. "Any idea which case it's linked to?"

"Aren't they usually linked with Reddington?" Tom asked quietly from behind.

Aram's huffed a short, excited laugh. "Do you remember then? I know that you've had sessions with Dr Orchard, but I didn't think you would -"

Tom's expression immediately shifted to confusion. "I don't know what you mean."

"That you knew that Red always has an agenda," Liz explained softly. It was yet another small but good sign that there was more progress being made than either of them had realized.

"So when did Tom officially join the team?" Ressler asked from the top of the stairs as he and Cooper exited Cooper's office. Liz looked up, the smirk drawn out by the snarky comment instantly fading at the sign of her partner's arm in a sling and, as he drew closer, the bruises already starting to form. He'd won the fight, but he'd taken some hard hits to do it.

"You okay?"

"Oh yeah. Fantastic," he groused and gave Tom a nod. "You look better than the last time I saw you."

Tom grimaced a little and ducked his head. "Yeah, sorry about ghosting on you like that, man."

"Any idea who attacked you?"

"Someone linked to Emilia Schmitz," Ressler said with conviction. "Has to be. The guy was looking for a jump drive that my buddy Weiss gave me in Germany."

"Did he get it?"

"Where's the faith, Keen?" Ressler's lips tilted at one side and he motioned with his non-injured hand towards Aram's computer.

"Agent Ressler dropped it off before going home and I've been working on the decryption. Considerably less complex than The Collector's file."

"Well, Weis did want us to see it," Ressler murmured.

"What have you found?" Cooper prompted and Aram stuttered to a start of his exploration.

Emilia Schmitz. Ressler's buddy had uncovered just over half a dozen aliases the woman went by and connections not only to governments, but criminal organisations as well. The most interesting one? The Nash Syndicate. Liz thought the floor might have shifted dangerously under her and she saw Cooper stiffen a little to her right.

To her left, Tom tilted his head. "What am I missing here? The woman has ties to arms dealers and traffickers, but a drug ring is where you draw the line?"

"Not the drugs, the group itself," Liz answered quietly. "They had a contact in the Marshals that let them really get a foothold here. Ian Garvey. He was the one that…." She swallowed hard, and while Tom stood next to her waiting for an explanation, all she could see was him bleeding out on their living room floor. She cleared her throat, trying to focus back to the present. "He was the one that nearly killed you."

Tom's expression darkened at the words. "So this… Cabal that Reddington thinks she's connected to had something to do with me losing my memories?"

"Maybe. Possibly. It's another piece of the puzzle, at least," she said quietly, even if she knew that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"You said your mother was involved with hiring Tom. She used to work for the Cabal," Ressler pointed out. "You think Reddington knows she's alive?"

"Only one way to find out," Liz answered and pulled her cell out, hitting the speed dial. "Dembe, it's me. Tell him to meet me at the Post Office. I have an update on the case."

* * *

She could still recall the day that the news had come in. It would have felt more appropriate if it had been dark and rainy, but the sky had been clear and the Bureau's case against her had been falling apart. Scottie had thought things were looking up. They had certainly appeared that way right up until Agent Lamb arrived with the news. He had been the lead agent on her case, and while he had never had a good word to say about her, he respected her son. He'd taken no joy in delivering the news of his death, even when Scottie broke down. It hadn't been immediate. She had sat there, a metal table between them, and stared wide-eyed as he asked her if she had heard him. Her vision had blurred and the walls she had secured herself behind cracked and crumbled all within a matter of seconds, the weight too much to bear.

She'd lost him. Again.

And again it had been her fault and she knew it.

Over two years later she hadn't expected a miracle, but she certainly wasn't going to take it for granted. Elizabeth was being cautious, which was - as much as she was loath to admit it - understandable, though Scottie did hope that she wasn't the only one her daughter-in-law was being cautious with. Her team knew that Tom was alive, meaning that Reddington likely knew, but who else? If it got out, if certain people discovered that he was alive, he and Elizabeth would be in danger all over again. Not to mention their precious little girl. She needed intel, and while she didn't have any specific ill-will towards Agent Ressler, the attack had certainly come at an opportune time to get that.

"Grandma Scottie?"

"Yes, sweetie?" Scottie answered automatically, pulled from her thoughts.

"Why aren't you colouring?"

Scottie glanced down at the colouring book her granddaughter had chosen for her and the collection of crayons laid out across it. Tinkerbell remained untouched and she knew she was likely waiting in vain. The Keens might have some piece of intel hidden away, but it was going to tell her what she already knew: Katarina was back and she was setting up her board for another round of the most dangerous game of their lives. "I need to make a call. Why don't you keep working?"

"'Kay," the four-year-old answered and went back to her own picture of Tiana as her grandmother stepped into Agnes' bedroom and shut the door, pulling her phone out of her skirt pocket ro dial an old but familiar number.

It rang and rang, and for the first time Scottie entertained the idea that the line might have finally been cut rather than rerouted until -

" _Betty's Flower Shop_ ," came an old, cigarette strained voice.

"I need to speak with Betty," Scottie answered.

" _She's unavailable. Can I take your order_?"

"Of course. I need half a dozen daffodils mixed with two dozen sunflowers with greenery delivered to the shop on 10th. Dorothy Collins will be there to receive them."

" _Understood. Is tomorrow acceptable_?"

"It is," Scottie answered and ended the call. The meet was set. She had the rest of the evening to spend with her granddaughter. Time to put Katarina as far out of her mind as she could.

* * *

Something about Elizabeth calling to extend an offer to bring him in on the latest update on their case rang false. Or, if not necessarily false, at least not wholly true. Ressler and Park would have arrived back into DC that evening, it was true, but Elizabeth had been suspicious and secretive before Red had handed her The Collector case. Since Petrov's demise, she had taken that distrust to new heights.

If Katarina was to be believed - and he knew trusting her fully was a fool's errand - Elizabeth and Tom knew about the woman who had called herself Tolliver's death. They had been there and witnessed it first hand, yet Elizabeth hadn't said a word about it. If she'd managed to keep both that and Tom's reappearance from him, there was no telling what other secrets she could be attempting to harbor, and that within itself was dangerous. Katarina was a wildcard by herself, but if Elizabeth was playing her own game as well it would diminish their odds in succeeding in what some might already consider a losing game.

"You should tell her."

Dembe's voice pulled Reddington out of his thoughts and he blinked owlishly from his place in the back of the town car. "Tell her what?"

"About Tom."

Reddington shot his old friend a withering look. "We're balanced on a thin enough blade without introducing that dangerous piece of knowledge."

"Katarina knows—"

"Yes, she's made it quite clear that she does."

"- and she _will_ use it against you if you find yourselves at a crossroads."

Reddington loosed a long breath. "Telling Elizabeth will only alienate her. I can handle Katarina."

He didn't miss the look he received through the rear view mirror in return. "The secrets are what alienate Elizabeth. If you trust her, she will choose trust in return. Tell her about her husband. About her mother. Tell her everything and she will know she can trust you."

"I wish I had your faith, my friend," Red murmured as they pulled up to the Post Office.

Dembe didn't push any further as they exited the car and made their way through security and down into the bowels of the blacksite. Reddington felt the knot that had been steadily growing in his chest since the call tighten as he saw Tom was amongst those gathered around and discussing. The younger man's dark blue gaze latched onto him as he entered, a flicker of surprise flashing across his features, and he tapped Elizabeth on the arm to motion back at Red.

Elizabeth split from her team and her husband, making a beeline for Reddington. She grabbed a handful of his coat sleeve and started dragging him off to the side. "We need to talk."

"Elizabeth -" Dembe started.

"I'll bring him back in one piece," she tossed over her shoulder and didn't stop until they were tucked away in a secluded part of the Post Office. "Thank you for coming."

"Tom," Reddington said simply, the name rolling off of his tongue almost as a question. Before anything else happened, he needed to know where they stood there.

"What about him?"

"How is he? Have you learned anymore?"

"Maybe." She drew in a trembling breath. "This… everything…. You've referred to this as a war, and with the information that we've received, with everything we're looking at, I believe it's coming to head. This game - the back and forth that we do with withholding information - it has to stop, but it can only stop if I can trust you. I need you to put the cards on the table. Anything you're holding back, I need to know."

There was an edge of desperation in her voice and he wondered just what she had found. He needed to handle the situation with care. One wrong word, one wrong step, and the entire house of cards would come crashing down. He needed to regain control. "You've discovered something."

"More than one thing," she answered tightly.

Well, he knew one of those at the very least. "Maddie Tolliver."

"Why didn't you just tell me she wasn't my mother?"

"I warned you not to trust her, that just because you wanted her to be didn't make it true."

"But you never said she wasn't."

"Would you have believed me if I did?" He waited and watched as she pursed her lips together, those eyes that reminded him so much of Katarina's threatening to cut through to his soul if he let them. She knew the answer. It was the same one he'd come to. "No. Of course you wouldn't have, because you were _convinced_ she was. I have never lied to you, Elizabeth."

"She's dead."

"I know. That's not all you've found, is it?"

"Emilia Schmitz has a connection to the Nash Syndicate."

Reddington's eyes widened a little at that. "Interesting."

He watched her stiffen just a little, her shoulders back and her chin tilted up defiantly. "Did you know that the woman you sent us after is connected to the people that tried to kill Tom?"

"I did not," he answered firmly and watched her take it in, weighing the words as if she could decipher the truth in them. "Nor is the connection direct."

Her jaw clenched as she fought off what must have been a surge of emotions. "Ian Garvey, the Nash Syndicate…. It's all connected, direct or not. Somehow they're linked to the Cabal. Did they have something to do with why Tom lost his memories?"

This was dangerous, dangerous territory here. Territory he would have much preferred to avoid altogether, but there they were. Reddington steadied himself. "Elizabeth, when I arrived at your apartment - after Garvey had long since left and Tom had killed the men he'd left behind - you were both in…. terrible shape." He winced trying to push the mental image of Elizabeth lying on the floor with blood matted to her hair out of his mind. "That kind of trauma -"

"Don't bullshit me, Reddington," she growled, a dangerous look flashing through her eyes. "And don't protect her."

That wasn't what he'd expected. "Protect who?"

"My mother. I know she's alive. I know that she hired Tom to reinsert him into my life. She's been toying with us and she has connections to the Cabal. If she hurt him to manipulate me in _any_ way -"

"Elizabeth." He waited until she swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. She knew. He wasn't sure how she and Tom had made the connection, but denying it now was futile. All he could hope for was a chance to explain. "If I'd told you outright that Tolliver wasn't your mother, you wouldn't have believed me, but what's more, the safeguard that your grandfather and a dear friend of mine put into place to protect _Katarina_ would have been made obsolete. The woman you knew as Tolliver was a layer of protection."

"I want to see her."

"No. Absolutely not. She -"

"You seem to think I was asking," Elizabeth snapped. "I'm not. You're going to take me to her and I'm going to get answers. My entire world has been turned upside down because of all of this. She owes me. _You_ owe me."

The words cut, viscous and dangerous and he saw Katarina in her. Red could feel the weight of it all and the beginning of the distortion that signalled an episode. He needed to take a breath. "And if I refuse?" he asked after a long moment. He was alright. If he could keep the situation from escalating too badly again, he'd be alright.

"I don't think you will."

"And why is that?"

"Because you need me, and if you don't do this now, I'm gone and you can fight your own damn war."

* * *

It was late by the time Tom returned to the apartment. He had wanted to go with Liz. She needed backup and if she didn't trust Reddington to tell her the truth, how could she trust him with that? She'd offered him a sad sort of smile and tipped up on her toes, guiding him down to meet her as she had rested her forehead against his, and asked him to trust her. This was something she needed to do on her own. As soon as she had answers, she'd be home.

Home.

He wasn't sure when he'd started to think of the little apartment in connection to that word, but it felt right, even if the snippets of memories that he had for it were something out of a nightmare. There was something calming about the place, like he belonged there. Even without Liz at his side for the moment.

Scottie Hargrave was still there. Of course she was. She'd been watching Agnes. The fact that he'd be responsible for the little girl hadn't really keyed in with him until he saw her snoozing on the couch, wrapped around a big, stuffed dog plushie.

"She was determined to wait up until you both got home," Scottie told him in a hushed voice, her thin lips tilting into a fond smile. "She missed you."

"She knows me somehow," Tom murmured, his gaze fixed on the sleeping girl.

"Of course she does. There's a bond between a parent and a child. You know her too, even if you don't know that you do."

That drew his attention around and he found Scottie staring at him, her dark eyes warmer than they'd been earlier that day, even if a little sad. "I'm sorry I don't remember you. Liz says that… we'd gotten close."

"We did, and we will again."

"I'm working on it, but it's not…. It's frustrating. The first session was great, but the second one…. I don't know if I have the patience for this," he confessed softly, the words leaving his lips before he gave them permission to. "I was okay before. I didn't care that the boss that raised me wanted me for a payday or the woman I was sleeping with didn't know who the hell she was any more than I did. I didn't have a family, didn't need them. Didn't _want_ them. It would have been…. a liability. I think it was. I gave up everything for Liz, and then I turned around and did it again."

"You love her."

He nodded, feeling shaky and exhausted. "I do. I just want to remember her like she remembers me before..." He squeezed his eyes closed, swallowing the words down hard.

"Before what?" Scottie prompted softly, her hand gentle on his arm.

"Before she figures out I'm not the guy she wants me to be. I'm not a good person and I have no idea how to be for her and for… and for Agnes." He looked over to the little girl and felt his chest tighten. "I need to be."

"Tom." He turned and looked at her, finding tears standing her eyes and she reached up to press her palm against his cheek. "Halcyon - the company that I run - has tremendous resources. I'd like to offer them to you and to the doctor you're working with."

"Why?"

A couple of the tears escaped, but her smile grew. "Because I'm selfish, and I'm not willing to let you go a third time. Will you let me help you?"

She held his gaze and Tom knew he should be looking for an angle. There had to be an angle, but if she really could help him recover his memories faster, it might just be worth it. "Yeah," he breathed.

Without warning Scottie had her arms around his neck. Tom stiffened at the embrace even as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck and held on tightly. They stood like that for a long moment and Tom pushed hard at the raging emotions that toppled over one another like waves threatening to drown him. Almost memories. That's all he had, but they wouldn't do him any good right now. He swallowed them down and tentatively wrapped his arms around her in return.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : I had a blast researching and coming up with Scottie's secret code to Katarina in this chapter. For anyone interested, here's the deciphered code:

half a dozen & two dozen = 6 &24

daffodils = rebirth

sunflowers= loyalty

greenery = a park

10th = the street

Dorothy Collins =DC

So she's setting the meet at 6:24 at the park on 10th Street in Washington DC, calling in a favour in regards to Tom's return.

I won't admit how long it took me to put it together but I'm still pretty darn pleased with it.

 **Next Time** : Liz meets her mother, Scottie goes to the meet, and Cooper makes a potentially dangerous request for intel.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz meets her mother, Scottie goes to the meet, and Cooper makes a potentially dangerous request for intel.

If there was one thing she knew about Raymond Reddington, it was that he never laid all of his cards on the table, even when she begged him to. The fact that he had caved on taking her to see her mother - a woman that he had been determined Liz and the rest of the world assume was dead - meant one of two things: either Katarina Rostova had requested her presence first or there was something far more damning looming off in a shadowy corner and waiting to strike. Or both. It could certainly be both. Liz didn't trust that he truly believed her threat, even if she wanted it to be true.

And it should be. When this was over - whatever war they were caught up in - she and Tom needed to take Agnes and walk away. They needed to protect their family.

Reddington led her to the same warehouse that Liz had been visiting Dom in. He met the doctor at the door who looked put out over something or the other, though it wasn't like he would tell her anyway. Instead Liz moved past them, feeling Reddington's eyes on her as she did, but her own were focused on a figure sat curled into a chair next to Dom's bedside with a tablet in hand.

There had been too many assumptions made, too many desperate attempts to believe that she had found the family that had left her over the years, but as the woman looked up Liz knew and her breath caught in her throat.

Katarina Rostova's lips parted into a smile and she set the tablet down. "Masha." She unfolded from her place, her moments exact in a way that showed her years of training. Even edging towards sixty, Liz would bet that this woman would still dominate in a hand-to-hand fight. She was dangerous, and there was a chance she was the reason Tom lost his memories. Liz couldn't lose track of that.

"Look at you. Photos don't do you justice," Katarina breathed, her gaze fixed on her daughter. "I'm sure you have questions."

"I do," Liz answered sharply. "I have…. a million questions, and everyone seems to have a different answer if they give me an answer at all. Reddington told me you were dead, Dom said that you'd faked your death to get away from the KGB and the Cabal, and Sam -" she swallowed hard, the man who had raised her's name pulling at the thread of painful memories - "it doesn't matter. What does is what I know."

Katarina straightened a little at that, her head tilting curiously. "And what is that?"

"That you are the woman from my memories and that you hired my husband to make sure he fell back into my life."

"Was there a question there?" she asked, he tone light but the underlying condescension made Liz's blood boil.

"How did he lose his memories?"

"Why do you think I would know what?"

"Did you hurt him?"

Katarina sighed loudly, glaring past Liz as she spoke. "Raymond has made you paranoid," she huffed and her gaze returned to meet Liz's. "When I came across your husband his memories were already gone. He was working for St Regis under the name Jacob Phelps. I've watched you Masha. I knew about the milestones in your life, even if it wasn't safe to be a part of them." She reached out and Liz steeled herself as her mother took her hand. She didn't pull away, but she didn't return the hold either. "I knew who he was and it was clear that something had happened."

"So you approached him under a false name with a false story just to bring him home? Do you really expect me to believe that's all there is to it?" Liz growled, finally snapping her hand back.

"Of course not."

"Then what?"

Her gaze flickered past Liz again. "I know Raymond doesn't always tell you everything -"

"Only when he's backed into a corner and even then as little as he possibly can."

"-but he believes he's protecting you."

"Any chance you plan on telling me why he feels entitled to treat me like a child?"

Katarina's brows drew together just a little before evening back out, the hint of unfiltered emotion tucked safely behind a mask that Liz was confident that she was wearing. Heaven forbid she meet her real mother and the woman be open and honest with her. That would be too easy.

"Ask me anything about me and I'll answer you. Truthfully and honestly. That's what I can offer."

Liz pursed her lips, wondering if she would even know what the truth looked like coming from this woman. "Why now?"

"To protect you," Katarina answered. "Everything I've done since you were born has been to protect you."

Liz took the words in and she wanted to believe them. "It's late. I need to get home."

"We have time. I'm not leaving."

The younger Rostova started to turn towards the door, but stopped and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke. "When I was little I used to pretend you were a ballerina touring the world and you would come back for me someday. I never dreamed you were a spy. A KGB agent and member of an organization that tried to have me killed. That very likely tried to have the man I loved killed. You're going to need time, because everyone that's come before you has used up my blind trust. You're going to need to earn yours." She met her mother's gaze. "And if you had anything to do with Garvey or the two and a half years of hell that my family has been put through because of him, you won't get the chance."

And then she was gone, blowing through the door and into the warehouse and outlying street so fast she couldn't have heard it if anyone tried to stop her. She had needed to look her mother in the eye that night, to confirm she was who she thought she was, and she had. Now all she wanted to do was to go home.

* * *

6:24 AM at the park off 10th in DC. That had been the message Scottie had left for Katarina and she was late. Of course she was. Even when the time was agreed upon, Scottie had known Katarina would either already be there when she arrived or leave her waiting and exposed. It was typically the latter.

The city was moving around her and the park was filled with joggers, cyclists, and a few people trying to combine Fido's walk with a desperate need for caffeine consumption at one of the coffee carts set up. Scottie watched mothers and fathers playing with their children at the park just down the path, one little boy reminding her all too much of Christopher at that age. Just for a moment she closed her eyes and she could almost hear the waves washing up onto the beach and see her little boy toddling with a bucket and shovel towards a little girl with long brown hair.

"Have you seen Agnes yet?" Scottie asked the figure who had taken a seat on the bench behind her. "She looks just like her mother at that age, just with her daddy's eyes."

"I've had more pressing concerns," Katarina answered. "As do you."

"It's been a long time, but you could have come to me. Especially when you discovered he was alive."

She could almost hear Katarina's smirk in the words. "I had faith you'd catch up soon enough." Scottie felt something press against her leg under the bench and found a shopping bag there. "They're coming."

"I could only assume that was true with you coming out of the cold like you did."

"We need it."

"There's other ways. We've put them in enough danger."

"And this is the only way to protect them from that danger."

Scottie pushed a long breath out through her nose, waiting until a jogger passed by to continue. "Christopher is missing time. Significant time."

"I know. It should open up opportunities."

"Convenient," Scottie ground out, the implication less than subtle and she heard Katarina snort.

"My daughter accused me of the same thing just last night."

So that's where Elizabeth had been. "You can hide things from her and call it protection. It may even be true, but you and I are equals in this."

"We were never equals," Katarina said tightly. "Not when it was me that they came for."

"I understand that was handled rather efficiently. You did have Koslov wrapped around your finger nearly as tightly as he had Lia around his."

"Speaking of men eager to please—"

"No."

"I haven't even asked yet," Katarina pouted.

Scottie resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she bent for the bag. "He can't be trusted."

"You just need to play it right. Look at our children. They were able to move past a few lies needed to get the job done. Howard will too if properly incentivized."

"He tried to turn Christopher against me."

"So? Christopher doesn't remember, and I imagine you're the one holding the strings now, aren't you?"

"We're setting the facility up today."

"Always in control, but not for long if they get it first."

Scottie stood. "They don't know where to look."

"So Ian Garvey's connection to Emilia is just a coincidence then?" Scottie turned to find Katarina staring directly at her, all pretense of subtlety tossed aside. "I'm banking on you doing what you do best. Bring the outliers under control. You have everything you need."

Scottie turned back, gaze sweeping the area to find them as alone as could be expected. "I'll be in touch," she said sharply and her heels sounded her exit on the concrete path through the park.

* * *

When Scottie said she wanted to help, Tom hadn't known exactly what to expect. The resources that she offered had turned out to be a more secure location than Dr Orchard's office and an array of equipment that had the good doctor falling over herself like a teenager with a crush.

Liz had not been quite as onboard with it. Scottie had been gone by the time Liz returned from meeting with her mother - something that she hadn't seemed overly inclined to talk about and Tom wasn't sure what their history was when it came to pushing for intel - and had been very hesitant to accent the broad offer to help, worrying about strings being attached to it. It had come in steps, first with Orchard moving the treatments there, and then as some of the symptoms that accompanied the memory therapy - migraines, nausea, and a variety of other less than fun side effects - started to set in, Scottie's offer to allow the Keens to make use of the living quarters attached to the building became harder to sidestep.

Tom watched Liz's reaction as she turned her nose up at the expensively decorated setup. "I don't know what she wants, but she wants something."

He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and clips of memories playing through his mind from the short session he had just gone through. They had been in their apartment. It had been dark outside and Liz had had Agnes in her arms. She must have been eight or nine months old. Liz had been pushing about something having to do with Scottie and working for her.

He pulled in a breath, forcing his attention back to the present. "I thought you liked Scottie?"

"I do."

"Didn't you leave Agnes with her for a while?"

"I did." Her tone was a little sharper that time and he eased himself off the door frame to meet her where she stood in the middle of the room.

He reached out and, despite the irritation at the subject matter, she melted into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, holding her close. "So maybe this has more to do with your mom than mine?"

And that got him an elbow to the ribs.

A soft, pained breath left him and he found Liz's glare that looked more feigned than not. "Ouch," he huffed and the barest of smiles tilted her lips.

"I'm sorry, which one of us has a psych degree?"

"I mean, I know a guy that could spin one up pretty fast," Tom murmured with a small smirk and she swung at him again, missing this time as he hopped back. "Damn you're violent."

"And you're rude."

"But am I wrong?" he asked softly, the tease washing out of his voice. He held her gaze and watched as her own expression turned thoughtful.

"Maybe not."

Tom watched her, waiting and gauging the situation. Part of it was training, but another part of it was the knowledge that with each memory Orchard helped him put back into place, he knew her a little better. He knew Liz's tells. He knew her micro expressions. He knew _her_. "I know you don't trust her - I don't either - but we're not going to pick up intel from the outskirts," he said after a long moment.

"You want to bring them in?"

"I think it's our best chance at finding out what's really going on. Your team's hit a dead end -"

"Roadblock," she corrected. "We've been up against worse."

"-and I haven't been able to track down Koslov yet. Reddington and your mom obviously know something."

"Your parents both knew Reddington," Liz said.

"Could be a connection." Tom pulled in a breath as he saw a flicker of distortion out of his peripheral vision.

"Tom?"

He blinked, her voice pulling him around. "Migraine starting."

Liz sighed and wrapped her arms around his middle, her cheek pressed against his chest. He let his own arms fall loosely around her hips and kissed the top of her head. "Agnes is down for a nap."

"You saying we should start taking cues from our four-year-old?" he chuckled, soaking in how right it felt to hold onto her like this. She stiffened, though, pulling back and his brows drew together. "What?"

"That's the first time since you've been back you've referred to Agnes as _our_ daughter."

"Yeah?"

She smiled. "Yeah." She dropped her arms so that her hand caught his. "C'mon. If we're staying here, we might as well try out the bed."

Tom choked on a laugh as he followed along behind her, grateful to have her curl up with him as he tried to let the migraine pass. He wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her a little closer in the king's size bed, and pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades. "Just think about it?" he asked softly and felt her fingers curl around his.

"Is that what you would do? If this were a job and you needed the information?"

"It's not a job. It's our life."

Liz let out a small sound that he couldn't identify and pulled his knuckles up to kiss them without explanation.

"But yeah," he breathed, feeling exhaustion starting to threaten. "It's what I would do."

"Okay," he heard her say as his eyes drifted close. "I trust you."

* * *

Harold Cooper sat in his office alone, hunched over the open files of evidence laid out across his desk and a frown tugging at his lips. It had been five days since Ressler and Park had come back from Bonn with intel about Emilia Schmitz damning enough that someone had been willing to break into Ressler's home and attack him just to try to get it back. Since then they had uncovered a collection of contacts spanning from government officials to military personnel across the globe to both legal and illegal organizations. It was a diverse mix, but without risking tipping their hand any further than they had already, tying those seemingly unconnected strings together to make sense of it all was proving difficult.

Reddington was looking into some of it, which was a start, but Keen seemed to think he was distracted and Cooper found himself in agreement. As they neared closer to five full days since his agents' returned without any further solid leads, he knew they needed inside knowledge. If Reddington wouldn't or couldn't provide that, he needed to find a different path.

He picked up the phone and dialed, listening to it ring through. He thought he might reach a voicemail when it finally connected, an amused voice on the other end of the line. "Director Cooper, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"A common goal, I hope."

"And what would that be?"

Cooper settled back in his chair, weighing his decision one last time. "Scottie, our investigation has led us to believe Ian Garvey may have been linked to the Cabal."

"And you're sharing this information out of the goodness of your heart?" Tom's mother asked, her sarcasm balanced between irritation and amusement, likely because she knew he was about to ask for something.

"No. I'm extending it in hopes you'll be willing to provide an operative that we know has key knowledge of the Cabal to help us decipher some of the intel we've found."

"And which operative is that, Harold?"

"Matias Solomon."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Let's take a vote: how many active (or tee'd up to become active) characters in this story do you actually trust?

 **Next Time** : Scottie contemplates how she got to where she is, Ressler and Cooper meet with Solomon, and Tom's suspicions about his mother grow.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scottie contemplates how she got to where she is, Ressler and Cooper meet with Solomon, and Tom's suspicions about his mother grow.

Some people are born into a life, some are forged by circumstances, and yet others create their own. Scottie had always created hers, but she supposed that it could be argued that it was her circumstances that had forced her to do so. She'd come from nothing, born to a couple in some Midwest town that she had done her best to forget, and she had somehow convinced them to send her out to the East Coast to live with her mother's aunt in Boston by the time she was thirteen. By fourteen she'd been promoted a grade above her age level and at sixteen she'd met Katy Wilkinson. Katherine, but her father never called her that. Only her mother and only when she was in trouble, and Katy was never careless enough to get caught.

The two girls had quickly become inseparable, finding that they worked well together and could keep each other on their toes. Neither had a great deal of money to lean on, but somehow that never seemed to stop them. Much to Katy's father's displeasure they were often the center of attention wherever they went and while the teachers couldn't quite find a way to pin all the wrongs of their school on them, they always managed to land close enough to whatever was happening to sit back and enjoy the show.

And then suddenly Katy was gone. No forwarding address, no warning. The house was empty without any sign of movers taking their things away. Neighbours all had a different story as to where they were going, though times being what they were a persistent rumour had taken hold: they'd returned home to Mother Russia.

Not that there was any indication that the Wilkinson family were sleeper agents, but that rarely mattered.

She didn't hear a peep out of her friend until just after her eighteenth birthday. She had been traveling through Europe just after graduating from high school. While she couldn't get into East Germany, she was able to make it into West, and she saw a familiar pair of blue eyes matched with red hair when an equally familiar figure took a seat across from her at a coffee shop. Funny. It never bothered her to find out that those rumours had actually been true or that there was more to the story than even that. She'd needed an out before she suffocated under the monotony that she would eventually have to go back to and Katy had what she needed.

Not that she'd been Katy then. That was a name she'd left behind, just like Scottie had left the name Mary Rowe behind to become Susan Scott. It wasn't like she'd ever been attached to it anyway.

Their paths had been intertwined from the moment they had met, even if neither of them had known it. Scottie had been Katarina's first recruit into the Cabal under Alan Fitch, and in turn she had been tasked with finding a way into the civilian contractor's side of the weapons game. Enter the young Polish immigrant Howard Hajduk - Hargrave, by the time she had met him - who had been absolutely infatuated with her. And she with him, even if she never would have admitted it to herself at the time. He'd been the perfect mark. Just the man the Cabal needed with both access and intelligence to bring their plans into fruition.

And it would have worked if it had only been Howard. For the life she'd chosen - for the life she excelled at - she could have lied to him. She could have lived both lives in parallel to each other, never quite letting them cross in a way that it would have jeopardized either one, but then Christopher had been born.

Her perfect baby boy.

She'd been helpless against him and he'd taught her why people sacrificed for one another with no promise of anything in return. She would have given her life to protect him. She had tried, even if she'd been young and foolish and utterly misguided. If she could go back with what she knew now, she could have protected him from all the pain he'd lived through, but there was no going back. There never was. One could only move forward, and maybe that was best. If given the choice Scottie knew she'd try all over again. She was selfish that way, and in that selfish desire to see him grow and mature into the man that he'd become, she would take away the circumstances that had forged him into the man he was. The man that loved his wife and daughter, even if he couldn't fully remember them. A good man. It was probably for the best that it wasn't her call to make.

Scottie found the suite that the Keen family had been given in the building empty. Agnes was at school, Elizabeth was on her way back from the Post Office, but Tom should have been there. His last session with Dr Orchard had left him sicker than usual. The migraines, the nausea, and everything else that came with the memory recovery sessions were escalating. Orchard had promised that this was expected and that she had everything under control, but Scottie had always been hesitant to simply rely on blind faith.

"Tom?" she called into the room, a tray of tea and empty mugs in her hands.

"Here," she heard him call out from deeper into the suite and she set the tray down to follow his voice. Scottie found him in the bathroom, leaned back against the wall next to the toilet and as pale as the porcelain. His dark blue eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was tight as he tried to steady his breathing. Finally, he cracked an eye open. "Hi."

She offered him a small and what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "I brought some peppermint tea. When you were little it always helped."

Tom nodded slowly, his expression still strained, but he didn't look ready to move yet.

"Why don't I bring it in here?"

She didn't wait for him to answer as she turned to retrieve it off the table by the door, bringing two steaming mugs back into the large bathroom. He reached out, hand trembling a little, but took a firm enough hold on the mug that she was willing to let go of it. Scottie set her own down on the marble tile before slipping her heels off to take a careful seat, long legs folded under her.

"It's weird," Tom breathed after a second and took a tentative sip from his tea.

"What is?"

"I have these clips now of…. meeting you. You offered me a job."

"I did. I didn't know who you were then."

"Yeah. Liz told me someone took me as a kid. She didn't know who. She said I didn't either." His dark blue gaze flickered up and over the lip of the mug, focused in on her. "I remember meeting you, I remember you offering me a job, and I remember working for you, but I don't remember being a kid. I don't remember knowing you then."

Scottie lifted her own tea to her lips, using the sip to buy herself a moment as she sorted through the multitude of responses she could give to that. The situation was delicate - dangerous, even - and even though Elizabeth seemed to have settled back into trusting her, Tom's faith in anyone other than his wife remained on shaky ground. Scottie couldn't find it in herself to blame him for that. For every memory he regained through his sessions it became terrifyingly clear just how many more he was missing. The fractured answers and the uncertainty were making him nervous. She could see it in his guarded expression. The wrong answer given could send him scurrying back behind those walls of his.

"What's your question?" she prompted after a long moment.

Tom swallowed hard, grimacing as he did. "Orchard thinks someone screwed with my memories before all of…. this." He gestured vaguely. "Did I remember you before, or is that it? Did someone make me forget you?"

There was a long moment of silence between them as Scottie searched for the right truth. "We didn't have much time to talk when you came to work for me. You were undercover."

"I think I remember that."

She made a small sound of acknowledgement, the pang of hurt she felt in her chest a reminder of the overwhelming betrayal she'd felt then. Not just from him. It hadn't been his fault. Howard had turned him against her. "But when you were testifying against your father, while I was still in prison and waiting for that testimony to free me, you would visit me. Do you remember?" He shook his head slowly and Scottie offered a thin smile. "You told me that every foster parent you went through said the same thing: that I'd abandoned you. That I didn't want you."

"Bud said that too," Tom breathed.

Scottie reached out on impulse, her hand covering his and he didn't pull away. "You believed that because you didn't remember me, but I would never abandon you. You were and you will always be the best thing that has ever happened to me."

She could see her little boy in the man he'd become as they sat on the bathroom floor together, Tom finally looking a little steadier than he had when she walked in. He nodded, accepting the words, and she felt him give her hand a small squeeze. "What time are Rostova and Reddington supposed to be here?"

"A couple of hours. You have time."

"I saw him the other day - Reddington - but I don't remember anything about working for him."

"It'll come," Scottie promised softly, "but I'll give you one piece of advice if you'll take it. Raymond is a snake. A useful snake, but if you forget what he is, he will bite you."

"And Rostova? Do you know anything about her?"

Dangerous, dangerous territory. Scottie sighed. "I know she wants to protect her daughter, just like I want to protect my son."

Tom didn't answer, but instead shifted and stood slowly. Once he was on his feet and steady he reached an offered hand down to Scottie and helped her to her feet as well. "Thank you," she murmured.

"That's actually what I was gonna say."

She blinked at him, trying to piece through the statement. "For what?"

"Everything. Letting us use this place to help me get my memories back, for a safe location to meet with Reddington and Rostova, and… for being honest. Thank you."

Scottie reached forward, her palm pressed against his cheek. "I'm on your side. Always."

He gave a small nod. "I'm going to hop through the shower before they get here."

It was a dismissal, but before Scottie made her exit she leaned forward to press a quick kiss against his forehead on impulse. She didn't say anything further, just picked the mugs up and let him have his space. They had time. Soon this would all be over, and they would have time.

* * *

He didn't like it, he didn't trust it, and he _hated_ that he understood it. There had been a time when the lines drawn between what was right and what was wrong had seemed a little clearer - a little deeper cut - at least in theory, but as Donald Ressler approached the supposedly neutral meeting place with Cooper, he knew there was a day he wouldn't have made a deal with this particular devil to get the job done.

Children's laughter from the playground just up ahead cut sharply against Ressler's mood as they trudged down the path through Central Park. Scottie Hargrave - or, rather, her assistant Kat Carlson - had provided nonnegotiable instructions. Cooper was required, but if he felt the need to bring someone with him Ressler or Liz were the only approved options. They would leave their weapons behind as well as their suit jackets to prove they were unarmed. Just shy of the playground there would be a large tree. They should approach and wait there.

"You sure you trust them?" Ressler asked before they hit the point of no return.

"I trust Scottie not to allow her company to be visibly responsible for the death of two federal agents," Cooper answered after a beat.

"And you think he's still part of that company?"

Copper's dark gaze slid to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "I understand your hesitation —"

"I get it," Ressler ground out. "Enemy of my enemy and all that. I just don't trust him."

"Neither do I."

Well, it was good to hear him vocalize it if nothing else.

" _Special_ Agents Cooper and Ressler," a voice chirped from behind, drawing both men's attention around to a face Ressler had hoped never to see again. He could still see him laid out on the ground, amused over the fact that the Cabal would make sure that the charges never stuck. He'd been willing to kill Liz, shot up the cabin Ressler and Tom had been in, and later attacked the Keens' attempted wedding and had nearly killed both Liz and Agnes. But there he stood, free and clear with them looking to him for intel. No wonder Matias Solomon was smug. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Was it the bank job? What a _fun_ day."

"A little girl was shot and hospitalised," Cooper growled and Solomon shrugged.

"Children are amazingly resilient. I hear she got through it just fine and a sizable - albeit anonymous, so you certainly didn't hear it from me - donation allowed dear old dad to catch up on his mortgage and, wouldn't you know it, they're doing better than before." Those dark brown eyes studied them both carefully, looking for any sign that he'd gotten under their skin. It was all Ressler could do to stop himself from throwing the punch.

"Scottie said you have what we asked for," Cooper redirected firmly and the mirth washed out of Solomon's expression.

He pulled in a deep breath and glanced around. "Emilia Schmitz." The name left him on a barely audible breath. "You do know how to pick them."

"Did you know her when you worked for the Cabal?" Ressler prompted.

"I did. Took quite a few orders from her back in the day. Not a woman to cross lightly."

"We'll keep that in mind," Cooper said sharply. "Who does she answer to?"

Solomon didn't look particularly comfortable with that question. "I suspect the man that took over as the head of the organization."

"After Hitchin?" Ressler prompted, the woman's name tasting bitter on his tongue.

Solomon snorted. "You feds. It's precious how limited your thinking is. Despite what you may think, the United States is not the center for every global affair. The faction here had power, once, but it started slipping the day Alan Fitch lost his head." The statement was accompanied by long fingers mimicking an explosion. "I was sent - by Emilia - to handle care of the Peter issue."

"You were part of the faction in Bonn?" Cooper asked, surprise lining his voice.

Solomon shrugged a little, his movements casual. He'd been offered immunity for anything he told them that afternoon, so it wasn't them that he was being careful of. He was looking for something around them, but if he was finding it was anybody's best guess.

"Schmitz obviously didn't hold you in very high esteem if she was willing to put a hit on you," Ressler murmured.

"Oh, that was all Laurel. She did have a habit of taking on far more than she had a right to. I guarantee she saw the power shift and was grasping." He tilted his head. "Even so, Emilia let it happen. Her funeral."

"The name," Cooper pressed and Solomon's gaze slid over to him.

"I knew him as Jonas Bauer, but he wasn't German. Russian, perhaps."

"And that's all you've got?" Ressler growled.

"More than you arrived with," Solomon countered. "My guess is that Emilia already knows you're looking into her. Your badges that you're oh so proud of won't stop her from sending a fixer over to make sure this doesn't reach Bauer, but feel free to keep chasing this down the line. I have no attachment to you." He turned as if he were ready to leave, but stopped. "What did you possibly give Scottie to force her to stick a hand in all of this?"

"I asked nicely," Cooper answered sharply and started past Ressler towards the park exit.

Ressler stood there a half a beat longer, working to file every inch of the conversation away. In truth the name could be a lot, but so was the visible fear that Solomon was so desperate to hide while speaking the name. That was even more to go on.

* * *

"I think Scottie knows your mom."

Liz startled a little at Tom's sudden voice when she entered the suite. For it not having been a full day yet, it had been a long one full of questions with few answers. Another possible lead had dried up again in the search for information on Emilia Schmitz and while she was grateful that Cooper had been so understanding about her need to leave early for this meeting, she also knew that The Collector was still top priority. Sure, it could be that he thought Reddington and Katarina would deliver some sort of intel on it, but Liz couldn't shake the feeling there was something more to it. Some reason that her boss didn't want her around the Post Office that afternoon. It paid to be paranoid in her life, though, and it sounded like Tom hadn't lost any of his own paranoia.

"What makes you say that?" she asked as she tossed her purse down into a chair, crossing the room to where he was sitting half curled into an oversized chair next to the window, likely watching the street below for Reddington and Katarina's impending arrival.

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Something she said...and didn't say."

"Care to expand on that?" Liz asked, only a little irritation creeping into the edges of her otherwise light tone. She took a seat on the arm of the chair and he looked up at her.

"Scottie was telling me not to trust Reddington -"

"Fair warning."

"- and I asked her about Rostova."

"And?"

"She said that your mom wants to protect you as much as she wants to protect me."

Liz pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I'm not saying you're wrong," she started and watched his jaw set a little, a small tell of agitation, "but maybe that's one mother projecting what she wants on another mother. Like when you said I was judging Scottie because of Katarina."

Tom pushed a long breath out through his nose. "I can't shake it."

"And maybe you shouldn't. She and Howard knew Reddington. Maybe they knew Katarina too."

"You don't know how Reddington met your mother?"

"Pieces. Sort of. There's been so much misdirection over the years that sometimes it's hard to know what's real and what's a lie."

She felt his hand nudge her leg and Liz's lips tilted up a little as she took it. Tom's eyes were on her. "If they know each other, it'll come out."

"One of the reasons you wanted to do this?"

"Maybe," he admitted with that sly little smile of his and she laughed, leaning down to press a kiss against his lips. He pulled at her gently, sliding her into his lap to deepen the kiss. She tumbled willingly, one hand sliding to the back of his neck to hold him close even as she had to break for air.

"Just as long as you don't play me like you play them we'll be fine," she murmured.

Tom pulled back, surprise etched into his expression. "I won't. Why would I?"

Liz felt a small tug of guilt. It was easy to forget that he was still working with very limited pieces of the puzzle. She needed to be honest, though. If she wanted him to return it, she had to choose to be an open book with him. "You've had a history of wanting to protect me, even if it means going at it alone," she answered softly, her free hand sliding down to his left side. Her fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt just over the scars that Garvey had left on him. "We're doing this together. I won't lose you again."

He was watching her, studying her, and he gave a slow nod. "Together."

"Good." She tilted her head towards the window where a town car could be seen pulling in. "Showtime."

"Let's see how much they know."

Liz's smile returned and she kissed him again before standing, Tom following immediately after. And then, without warning, the colour drained from his face and she saw him stagger. Liz reached out, unable to stop his knees from buckling, but at least she could ease the descent to the floor. "Tom? Babe, look at me," she said firmly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

He blinked slowly, sluggishly, and she found him trying to focus up at her from where she was now sitting with his head in her lap on the floor. "Liz?" he breathed out, his voice hoarse and a little confused, even as his eyes started to slip closed.

"No no no," she whispered. "Tom. Open your eyes. Babe. Look at me. Tom, please look at me!" She lost her battle with the panic as her husband went limp in her arms.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : It's such a good thing that I was writing so far ahead on this story because between work and the move, I haven't had a lot of time/energy to write. I'm hoping that means I won't have to take a week off from posting. Fingers crossed.

I really enjoyed both writing and editing down this chapter. I'm pretty firm on the idea that Scottie comes from a background in espionage and that she married Howard as a job, but her allegiances are the vague area in my theorizing, so I always try to come up with some fun twist for each new story with her. For this, I loved adding in teenage Scottie and Katarina before they ever took those names and how they met and became the women they did. 

**Next Time** : Consequences rear their head on multiple fronts and decisions are made.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences rear their head on multiple fronts and decisions are made.

**Chapter Twenty- Two**

He was on the edge, that much he knew. Of what or where or how he got there, he had no idea. He could feel the danger just ahead, even if his eyes wouldn't entirely focus on it. It was like he'd left his contacts in too long, or maybe had taken them out completely. That seemed more reasonable.

He blinked hard, squinting and struggling and feeling the strangest urge to step forward, even though something in his mind screamed at him that there was danger in it.

But he couldn't just stay there.

He took an intentional step forward and felt the drop.

Tom jolted hard, the fall in the dream startling him awake. He found himself stretched out on a bed - not the one he and Liz had been sharing since they had temporarily moved into the suite, but this one appeared to be in the medical portion of the building - with a thin blanket pulled halfway up and medical equipment beeping softly to his left. He glanced over, finding an IV and heart monitor that was the source of the noise. It tugged at a memory, one that he'd been searching for since all of this began. One that —

"Good morning, Tom."

The voice cut through him like a knife and Tom whipped around to find Raymond Reddington standing on the other side of his bed. If he'd just walked in while Tom has been focused on the equipment or had been standing there, he didn't know. As memories flickered and flashed, finally fitting into place, he didn't care. He remembered. He finally remembered.

"You're Raymond Reddington," he echoed his own response he'd given when he'd woken up with a ten year gap in his memory. His voice was a hoarse whisper and he could hear the machine give off a warning that his pulse was climbing. He needed to get out of that bed. Now.

"I am," the other man said smoothly. "Elizabeth said you still haven't recovered any memories of me yet. I —"

"I know who you are," Tom snapped as he tugged the IV free of his arm, tossing the monitor clipped to his finger to the side as well. He didn't care how loudly it was protesting.

There was a flash of confusion across Reddington's face, but it was quickly put away, the authority he wore like that stupid hat of his sliding back into place. "Tom. Stop."

Tom finally got free of the tethers and somewhere in the back of his mind he was glad he found he was still in his jeans and t-shirt.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

Bare feet hit the cool tile and he turned a dangerous look on the older man. "Damage is already done."

Realization flashed through blue eyes. "You do remember."

Tom's hand flexed at his side, jaw clenching as he tried to rein his temper in.

"Tom," Reddington said cautiously, taking a step forward, "there's something you must to understand —"

Funny. Reining his temper in didn't feel nearly as important with that.

Tom reeled back, the momentum landing a solid blow against Reddington's jaw. The older man stumbled, but didn't go down, and Tom threw him back against the wall. His hands went around his throat and his mind spun withall the fractured memories of the family that had been ripped from him. Stolen from him, and for what? "You son of a bitch!" he snarled, tightening his grip as Reddington net his gaze with infuriating calm.

" _Tom_!"

He didn't have to look back to recognize Liz's voice. He felt her hand against his arm, trying to pry him off to give Reddington air, but he didn't budge. Instead he held the bastard's gaze. "You did this."

"Your memories are…. unreliable," Reddington managed to choke out.

"Tom, he can't breathe," Liz pressed, her hand moving to his and he finally loosened his grip just a little. Enough to let Reddington drag in a few precious breaths, not enough for him to squirm away. And he would. He'd talk his way out of it. He _always_ did. Even if Tom didn't have the solid memories to back that up, he knew it with the same certainty that he knew he loved Liz.

"I saw you," Tom growled. "At the hospital… but it wasn't. It was a building you were using as a hospital. You took my memories."

Liz's hand instantly stilled against his, her grip loosening as she turned wide blue eyes on Reddington. "Reddington?"

"Elizabeth, you've said yourself that his memories have been coming back in pieces."

"That's not a denial," she breathed and Tom felt the anger and the rage flood freshly through him, tightening his hold.

"So what happened, Reddington? I figured out what your secret was and you thought you could just make me go away?"

"That's not what happened," he gasped.

"You took _everything_ from me! My _family_! My _life_! My…. Everything I'd become, everything I'd worked for, I didn't _remember_ it. And you just…. What? Sent me back to St Regis?" Like a kid sent back into the system. _It wasn't the right fit_. He hadn't been able to manipulate him with Liz, so there he went. "Why not just kill me? Why not just let me die?"

"Tom," Liz managed, her voice trembling and her touch was back. Gentle as it could be through her own desperation. "Tom, babe. Look at me."

He did. "I did things I can't take back," he whispered, hating how broken his voice sounded even to his own ears. "How am I supposed to be the man you remember like that? Be Agnes' father like that?" His gaze snapped back to Reddington and the man gave a short, choked gasp as Tom tightened his hold. "He did that. He took everything. Say the word and he's dead."

And they'd be free.

Her hand was firm against his arm closest to her, the opposite hand at the small of his back. She didn't say anything immediately, but let him loosen his grip on Reddington again on his own, and when she did speak her voice was soft. "Not for him, for you. For everything you _are_. He can't take that."

There was a long, tense moment before Tom let his hands drop and Reddington sank back against the wall. A tall Black man that Tom didn't recognize - even if somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he should - rushed to Reddington's side and the older man waved him off as he sputtered, hand going to his throat.

Tom felt his energy wane suddenly and Liz was with him, supporting him. "You're okay," she promised, wrapping an arm around the small of his back. "We're okay."

"Elizabeth…" Reddington tried hoarsely and she turned a vicious look on him.

"I'll deal with you later."

There was something satisfying about the wounded expression that flashed across his face at her tone, but Raymond Reddington turned with the man that had come to help him, moving towards the door. Scottie stepped out of the way, her dark eyes carefully guarded, and Tom saw Brigitte Tremblay - Katarina Rostova - watching him from just past his mother. Her own gaze was calculating and Tom pushed a rough breath through his nose. "You knew."

"Only pieces," Rostova answered evenly, "which doesn't seem to be much more than you know."

"Fuck you," Tom bit out and Liz reached up, her palm gentle on the side of his face as she guided him around to look at her.

"Hey. Look at me." She gave him half a moment to focus. "I love you."

Tom felt something shatter somewhere deep inside of him and he melted into her. Liz's arms wrapped around him, holding on tight as they sank to the floor together. He leaned into her, deep, painful sobs wracking his entire body, and he couldn't even find a way to ask her why. Why would she love someone like him? Why would she try so damn hard to bring him back to her? He didn't feel like the man she thought he was, and wasn't that how life worked? You matched up or you were gone.

But she was there, holding on and whispering soft promises that she wasn't going anywhere. Despite everything, he believed her.

And he loved her.

* * *

New York City buzzed with all the activity of a day winding down. Irritable commuters pushed their way towards their platform, heads down and focus absolute. None of them gave Matias Solomon a second glance as he moved through the crowds, using methods that typically worked in slipping a tale.

Well, they had always trained well. He had just hoped that he'd have at least twenty-four hours before they descended on him. No such luck. With as quickly as he found himself with a shadow other than his own they must have been at the park and seen him with the feds. It had been a risk. Anytime you crossed a group like the one Reddington's little team called the Cabal, you were sticking your neck out.

Scottie had promised to protect him, but even she had limitations. He'd sent her a message over a secure line when he had first spotted them, but was met with radio silence. Looked like he was on his own until he could reach HQ. There was a reason he'd had the feds come to New York rather than anywhere else.

Solomon dodged a teenager that had stopped to check his cell phone in the tunnels and whipped down a passage to his right, finding a small opening between two people to slide into as he worked his way towards one of the southbound platforms. Bonn wasn't a fan of leaving witnesses that could ID their operatives easily and risk broader exposure, but despite the fact that he'd stuck to crowded areas they seemed to be closing ranks on him faster than he would have predicted.

Speaking of….

A man stepped into Solomon's path, blocking him, but he pivoted around him in a smooth motion, slipping clear of the attempted grab. Okay. That was bold. Now it was a race.

Ahead he could hear an announcement over the loudspeakers that the train was arriving and he took off in a full sprint, his pursuers on his heels. He could fight them, he knew. Probably take a few down. The problem was that even though he didn't know how many were littered through the tunnels, he'd seen enough to know they were coming at him in droves. It's like they knew his reputation or something. As good as he was, though, even he couldn't take down that many at once. No. Losing them was a better option.

He shoved people that had the bad luck to be in his way out of it, whipping one unsuspecting man between him and the operatives and giving him a hard shove to put distance between them. It wasn't much, but it let him get a few steps ahead and through the closing doors.

The announcer's voice could barely be heard over the other passengers: he was on his way towards Grand Central. Okay, he could make that work. Solomon pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Still nothing from Scottie. He opened up his texts, typing out a quick message:

_You still in Cairo?_

The train jolted on the tracks and Solomon wedged himself a little deeper into the crowd. Surprisingly, there was a response when he glanced back down.

 _Back on Thursday. You owe me a drink_.

His lips curled up very slightly at the response, mind drifting to the fiery woman that had sent it.

 _If you'd won the bet, you'd already be on a jet_ , he typed, glancing up as the train slowed, the brakes squealing as they came into a stop. Interesting. He hadn't felt this exposed in a long, long time. Not even when the Cabal has given him up to the protocols that he helped put in place or when Scottie had been arrested and Nez had taken Keen's side.

 _If you're so confident, let's up the stakes_.

She'd come around. He had known she would. Some things were set in stone.

_Dinner?_

_Careful, Mattie. Make a girl think you care._

_Always_. His thumb paused over the send button as they hit 51st St and he saw a familiar figure enter down the way. A heavy hitter. Well, damn. He hit send as he worked his way to the exit and stepped out onto the busy platform.

A hand grabbed at his shoulder and turned him, a gun pressed just under his sternum. Solomon didn't hear the shots above the crowds. Didn't even feel them. He just watched as the Cabal operative smoothly rejoined the masses moving towards the exits and felt his knees give way under him, blood blossoming across his white shirt. His phone slipped from his fingers as he tumbled the rest of the way to the platform, people finally starting to take notice. Their panic sounded distantly as his dark eyes focused on Nez's face signalling her incoming call. At least she knew.

* * *

"Well that could have gone better," Katarina muttered as she followed Raymond and Dembe into the reimagined conference room that Scottie had directed them to when they had first arrived. They had had a bit of time with Masha to speak after hearing that her husband had had one of his rougher days in his attempts to crack his memories back open. Katarina had hoped to use the time to set some firmer foundations of trust before shit hit the fan too badly. She just hadn't anticipated it hitting quite that quickly. Memory manipulation, despite what those that studied it would say, was never an exact science.

Raymond sank down into one of the plush chairs, still rubbing at his throat where Tom Keen had cut off his air. He looked tired, but Dembe looked nervous. "We should not stay here."

"We need them," Katarina countered. "I won't give her up again."

"I'll speak to Elizabeth," Raymond managed, his voice hoarse. "This can be…. dealt with."

"He nearly killed you," Dembe said firmly.

"And she stopped him."

"Oh yes, that puts us firmly in the winning category," Katarina sniped, resisting the urge to groan loudly. This was a mess. Not unsalvageable, but still a mess.

The large, heavy doors at the far end of the room opened and Scottie Hargrave's heels sounded in angry taps against the wood floor as she made her way across the space.

Dembe straightened, taking a step between the angry CEO and Raymond. Scottie leveled a dangerous look at him. "One word from me and my security drops into this room with more firepower than you could ever hope to survive. I'd prefer it didn't come to that. Blood is unreasonably difficult to get out of the crevices in the floor."

Dembe didn't back down at the threat, but Reddington reached out to him. "It's fine, Dembe," he croaked out, grimacing as he did.

"Is it?" Katarina countered with a tilt to her head as she studied her old friend. She always had been emotional when it came to Christopher.

Scottie's attention snapped to her. "Were you involved?"

"I was the one that brought him back to her and, in turn, to you. I was involved in that."

If Katarina had questioned Scottie's field-readiness after a lifetime in luxury, it would have been a miscalculation. Katarina prized herself on reading people, but Scottie's closed fist flew out so fast that she never saw it coming. The impact sent her stumbling back, if not falling, and Dembe moved to stop her. Scottie drew a small snub nose that had been carefully concealed under her skirt and aimed it at Reddington. Both Katarina and Dembe froze in place, but from her expression Scottie had known exactly how that would play out. She turned her dark gaze on him. "Start talking, and I suggest you make it good."

Raymond cleared his throat, but otherwise looked unphased by the gun in his face. "They were dying, Scottie. Tom was chasing down answers to questions he had no business asking. He thought - as he usually does - that he was protecting Elizabeth. It brought Ian Garvey to their doorstep and Garvey nearly killed them both. I did what I had to to protect them."

"By faking his death?"

"To throw Garvey off, yes. It wasn't a permanent solution. It was to buy time."

"How then?"

Katarina watched carefully, waiting to see if a truth or a lie fell from Raymond's lips. He pursed them together thoughtfully and drew in a breath. "The answers that your son was looking for were dangerous. To him, to Elizabeth, to Katarina..." Clear blue eyes flickered to meet her own and Katarina didn't dare react.

"And to you," Scottie said tightly.

"Yes."

"And these answers?"

"Are mine. They must _remain_ mine. You think your Archive has brought the vultures circling? The Sikorsky Archive is nothing compared to this."

Scottie watched him for a long moment, assessing the words in the tense quiet of the room. There was a knock at the door before it opened and she barely contained her rage as she turned to the blonde British woman that had welcomed them when they arrived. Kat, ironically enough. " _What_?" Scottie snapped.

Kat didn't flinch at the drawn weapon. "This can't wait."

A half a beat of hesitation passed before Scottie holstered her weapon. "Don't move," she tossed in their direction and stepped to the side with the blonde.

They spoke, too quiet to be overheard, and while Scottie was turned to put herself between Kat and Katarina's lip reading skill, there was a clear change in body language. Something had gone wrong. More wrong than Tom's regained memories.

Scottie nodded sharply. "Make arrangements and bring Nez home."

"Should we say why?"

The older woman paused. "She has a right to know. Has anyone reached out to Cooper's people?"

"I will."

"Do it quickly. If they got to him that quickly, Matias didn't spot the tale at the park. I won't have the Task Force's blood on our hands for trying to help them."

Kat gave a small sound of affirmation and was gone as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Scottie to turn. Her focus was on Katarina now. "They killed one of my best agents."

"I'm sorry," she answered, trying to sound genuine. If nothing else, Scottie was clearly shaken by the death.

"Matias?" Reddington echoed the name she had mentioned. "Solomon?"

"Yes."

"He was gathering intel for Cooper?"

"Behind your back, I see," Scottie answered, her tone hollow. She straightened a little. "Solomon left a name before they killed him. I think you know something about it, and if you hold back I'll put a bullet in you." She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in. As if they didn't have enough without having to worry about her too. "Who the hell is Jonas Bauer?"

* * *

Years before, Liz had told Samar that Reddington was the bane of her existence. He had dropped into her life, upending it again and again and again. He had killed Sam, had dropped into her life to dangle questions that he refused to answer in front of her, put her and her family in harm's way, manipulated and lied and killed, and now she found out that he was responsible for the hell she and Agnes had lived under for over two years. It was too much. It was all too much, but she couldn't let herself break down. As much as she wanted to scream and cry and likely throw something at his head, she couldn't yet. Tom had struggled through chaos alone while he was with St Regis and now they'd finally found the answer that they'd been looking for. There was no satisfaction in it though. Just grief and betrayal, or at least that's what she thought he might be feeling. It's what she knew she should be feeling, but in reality she just felt numb.

It was all too much.

She felt him draw in a trembling breath from where he was curled on his side on the bed and Liz tightened her hold around his middle, pressing a kiss against the soft fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades. He'd been quiet for so long that she thought maybe he'd fallen asleep there. For his sake, she'd hoped that he had.

Tom shifted and turned in her arms until he flipped around to face her. His eyes were rimmed red and he looked beyond exhausted. "Is Agnes back?"

"Should be. Scottie said she was sending someone to pick her up, but I bet she's trying to give us some time."

"We need to go."

Liz blinked, and for a moment she was transported back to their car seven years before. _I need us together. And safe. I meant what I said earlier. We need to leave this place_.

"You want to run?" she asked after a long moment, making sure she understood fully and completely.

Tom gave a short, terse nod. He propped himself up on one elbow and his gaze was sharp, but she could see the fear lurking just below. "I'm drowning, Liz," he confessed, his voice trembling. "But we can go. You, me, and Agnes. We can start over. Just the three of us. No St Regis, no Reddington. Just us."

Her team, her work flashed instantly to her mind, the argument nearly making it off of her tongue before she swallowed it back. Yes, she'd have to leave them, but was the alternative? She couldn't imagine her life without him again. She didn't want to. She refused to.

Liz squeezed her eyes closed, feeling tears gather against her lashes. She blinked them away as she spoke. "I taught you to swim, do you remember?" He shook his head. "It's funny. I'd found out who you were a while before and you seemed… so much harder than during our first marriage." Images of a man fresh back from Dresden - hair buzzed, tattoos still visible from his time undercover - danced across her mind's eye. "You were, in a lot of ways, but we had a lull in our investigation searching for my mom and it just…. You kept talking about this boat and I told you you needed to learn to swim." She huffed a laugh at that. "It terrified you. You said you didn't know why, that no matter how hard you fought it you just panicked whenever your head went under the water."

"How'd we figure it out?"

"You're still not great with the whole head under the water part," she murmured with a smile, "but you had so much trust in me, even after everything. I told you I wouldn't let you drown and you trusted me."

He swallowed hard. "You're saying you don't want to go?"

She sat up enough to lean forward, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. "I'm saying I won't let you drown, and if leaving keeps your head above water, then we'll go. You, me, and Agnes."

Tom moved, propping himself up and leaning over her, and the kiss he pressed against her lips was desperate. She reached up, her nails scratching lightly against the skin of his neck as her fingers curled around the back of it and held onto him, holding them in the moment. If this was what he needed, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : I had the scene where Tom remembers that Red is responsible for his missing memories in mind for ages, but when I got up to the point where I was writing it I had a lot of trouble with it. Funny how that works, isn't it?

Also, for any Solomon fans out there, I'm crying right along with you. A friend of mine on Tumblr was talking a line from Buffy that said something along the lines of the monster that the monster is afraid of is even worse. Not sure of the actual line because I didn't get very far in the show, but that general premise (which rings true) was definitely on my mind when I brought Solomon into this story. If they can get to him, everyone should be afraid.

 **Next Time** : Reddington attempts to explain his actions, Katarina attempts to manipulate Tom, and new information comes in about Ilya.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reddington attempts to explain his actions, Katarina attempts to manipulate Tom, and new information comes in about Ilya.

She had no interest in repeating the whole chaos that had rained down on them when they'd left for Cuba. Not being followed, not being found out, not getting innocent people killed, and not ghosting on the small handful of people that Liz actually _could_ trust in her life. If they were leaving, they were going to do it right. Part of that was talking to her team.

Her boots tapped softly against the wood floors of the hallway as the phone rang again and again in her ear until it connected with Ressler's voicemail. His voice was even and dispassionate as he rattled off his own cell phone number and told the caller to leave a message, but a beeping caught her attention and Liz pulled the phone away to see the ginger agent's face fill her screen. She clicked _hang up and accept call_ , repositioning the phone. "Hey."

" _Hey. You guys secure_?"

The question caught her off guard and she paused in the middle of the otherwise empty hallway. "Secure?"

" _What? Did Tom's mom not tell you_?"

Liz's eyes narrowed. "If the intel is coming from any of our parents, it's safe to assume they're withholding it."

There was a short pause on the other end of the line before Ressler loosed a long breath. " _Okay. You know the lead we were chasing down_?"

"Not a lot about it."

" _Cooper had Hargrave put us in touch with Matias Solomon_."

The confession was like a punch to the gut. " _ **Why**_?"

" _Because he worked for the same faction of the Cabal that Emilia Schmitz does. He was out of Bonn_."

The logic didn't help the seething rage she could feel building inside of her. "Let me guess, it didn't go like you planned?"

" _Not for him. He's dead._ "

And just like that the rage turned to cold terror. "They knew he was meeting with you?"

" _Liz, we met with him this afternoon and he was dead a couple hours later. They're here and they're moving fast._ "

"Are you guys -"

" _We're at the Post Office right now, but it's not like we can just hide here until this blows over._ "

Liz glanced down the hall to make sure she was still alone. "Did he tell you anything?"

" _A name. Jonas Bauer._ "

"Any idea who that is?"

" _Not yet. Aram and Park are looking into it. Is Reddington there? Maybe he knows the name_."

The mere mention of his name snapped the situation back into focus. Right. Reddington. He was responsible for taking Tom's memories. He'd done this to them and they were done with him. She'd told Tom that they'd leave and never look back.

But now her team was in the crosshairs. Didn't that change things? She wasn't sure.

" _Liz_?"

"I'll ask," she said tightly. It was the least she could do before leaving.

" _Thanks. If it wasn't about Solomon, what were you calling about_?"

The truth stuck in her throat, the need to balance the complicated situation overriding her original intentions. They had enough on their plate right now without knowing that she was about to take off on them again. She would tell them, but first she needed to find out what Reddington knew.

"Later," she answered. "I need to catch Reddington before he leaves."

" _Let us know._ "

"Will do." She ended the call and started forward again with a new purpose.

* * *

When Matias Solomon had come to work for Halcyon, he had brought a wealth of knowledge. Scottie had known about the Cabal - she'd known more than she'd ever admitted to the man - but her knowledge was, in great parts, dated. There was a reason she had sought him out and a reason she'd been willing to save his life. It had worked out well for both of them and she hated that she couldn't save him from them in the end.

Reddington had recognized the name Jonas Bauer, that much she was certain of. He was a talented liar and an expert manipulator, but so was she. If she'd been given the time she was certain that she could have flipped the tables on him, but Agnes had been picked up from school and was in a complete fit over the fact that she hadn't been allowed in to see her parents yet. Meredith - a woman that had often watched her while Elizabeth had been doing what she could to fight her own demons after Tom's supposed death - had apologized profusely while still leading the sobbing child in and Agnes had wrapped herself around Scottie's leg and refused to let go. It broke her grandmother's heart. At least one of them. She had risked a glance to Katarina to see her watching the little girl with a blank expression. If the child's sadness caused any twinge of emotion in her, it never made it to her face, and it only served to solidify something that Scottie had tried to push back up until that point. Katarina had been right: they weren't equals, but not for the reasons that she had said. They weren't equals because Katarina viewed everyone around her - even if she was fond of them - as pieces on her chess board to be moved and adjusted as she needed them to be. Scottie, Tom, and even Katarina's own daughter. Scottie didn't question that she loved Masha, only that that love that she felt was a very twisted kind. A kind that she had always feared falling into with Christopher. Howard had, and it had destroyed their son's trust in him. Even if it had been rightfully so, she refused to let the same thing happen between them.

Agnes had cried herself into an exhausted stupor and was draped over Scottie's shoulder by the time that they arrived at the suite set aside for the Keens. Scottie shifted her carefully and knocked against the door. There was no answer at first and she reached for it, nimble fingers turning the knob and it opened for her into the first room of the suite: the empty sitting room. Agnes squirmed and slid down to the floor, instantly alert and on the search.

It was so quiet that Scottie wondered if perhaps they had fallen asleep when they'd come back in. Or left, a tiny, terrified thought appeared in her head, even if she knew they never would have gone without Agnes.

The first indication of someone else being in the suite was a sound that might have been a long zipper running along the tracks and the little girl took off towards the sound. "Daddy!" she squealed and disappeared into the bedroom.

"Hey, kiddo," Tom's voice drifted out, tired but there was something gentle about the tone that made Scottie smile. "Did your mom pick you up? That was fast. Liz?" Tom circled out of the room, Agnes in his arms and stopped at the sight of Scottie standing there. "Hey."

"Hi," she managed, the greeting strained. "How are you feeling?"

"Not fantastic," he answered and Agnes wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss against his scruffy cheek.

"Feel better?"

He turned to look at her and his lips tilted every so slightly at the corners. "Definitely."

"Anges, sweetie, could you give us a moment?" Scottie prompted and Agnes looked to her father like she was waiting for his OK on it.

He pressed a kiss against her temple and set her down carefully. "I'll be in in a sec, okay?"

"'Kay."

She waited as the little girl scurried back into the rooms and finally Tom turned his gaze on her. He looked exhausted. Drained. Like he had nothing left to give and the world just kept asking him for more. She hated it and she took a breath. "Tom, I -"

"Did you know?"

"Absolutely not. I never would have brought him in here."

"So he's gone?"

She pursed her lips. No. He wasn't, was he? Not yet. "It's complicated."

"Everything is."

"That's true." She watched him carefully, hoping for some small tell that would give her insight. He was too well trained for that, even in his current condition. It was…. Well, not fine, but he didn't deserve a mother that sized him up for the easiest way to manipulate the situation. He deserved a mother that put him above everything. It was time, all these years later, to truly try to be that. "Tom, I need to tell you -"

"No."

She blinked hard, the single, sharp word catching her off guard. "Things are complicated, and I need to tell you why. To try to explain why."

He snorted, his lips quirking up in a sardonic smirk that reminded her so much of his father. "You're gonna explain it all, huh? Spell it out for me?"

"I'm hoping to provide some…. I hope clarity, but so many years later, maybe just a piece of the puzzle that you're missing."

"I don't want your piece."

Scottie schooled her expression. "Tom, I had nothing to do with what Reddington -"

"It doesn't matter. Don't you get that?" He held her gaze. "You've had every opportunity to tell me whatever you're marching in to tell me now, but you haven't. Instead you waited for a sign of weakness."

"That's not what this is."

"You sure? We find out that the man that Liz basically views as her dad was responsible for taking my memories of her, of our daughter, and her mother was the one that hired me without ever telling me anything…. These are people you know. People you've - I don't know? Worked with? - and you expect me to think that you're handing me this olive branch out of the goodness of your heart with no ulterior motives? Why am I here to begin with?"

"I just want to make sure you're safe."

He watched her, sizing her up, and this time she knew that that look was all her. "Maybe. Hell, who knows? Maybe you really are the good one in all of this, or something close to it, but here's the thing, Scottie: I. Don't. Know." He bit each word out, anger and frustration lining them, and she saw the hurt behind the protective layers in his expression. "After all of this, I have one person I know that I can trust."

"What can I do to change that?"

"Nothing."

"Tom…."

"Not pushing me would be a good start though."

"Daddy, I wanna go to the pool," Agnes said as she bounded back into the room, but now she was wearing the little pink swimsuit that Scottie had given her when they'd come to stay there. The pool in the basement level had a hot tub that was shallow enough for her and she loved it.

"Sure, kiddo. Let's do that," he answered and took her hand. He turned back to Scottie and his words were pointed. "Whatever piece of the puzzle you have, I can't trust right now."

He didn't give her a chance to respond before he led the four-year-old out and down the hall, leaving Scottie alone with the overwhelming feeling that she was losing him all over again.

* * *

Reddington had always prided himself on strategy. He could look at the chessboard and see three, four, or five moves ahead. Whatever it took to stay ahead of his opponent. It let him move freely and allowed him the leverage he needed to force hands where they needed to be forced. He had honed the skills over the years to near perfection - and where they weren't perfect, he did a damn good job of making it appear that they were - through loyal employees and the occasional friend. With few exceptions, they were people that did as they were told and it allowed him the control he needed.

Elizabeth, like her mother, rarely did as she was told, and all these years later perhaps Kate had been right. Perhaps he shouldn't have dropped into her life and opened up the litany of questions that she thought she needed answers to. He hadn't felt like he had a choice. The dangers had been mounting, movements within the Cabal becoming more than whispers, and Berlin had been closing in. He had done what he had been certain needed to be done to protect her, and now that decision was catching up with him. His biggest mistake was underestimating her tenacity.

The first misstep - and the one that just kept on giving - was Tom Keen. He had been an effort to have eyes on Elizabeth without being there himself, but even Reddington hadn't been able to predict the strange twist of fate when he had hired Christopher Hargrave to watch over Masha Rostova. He had been drawn to her in a way that no one understood at the time and, somehow, it had led them to the one secret that Reddington needed to keep above all others.

The bones. It had been so long that he had dared to hope that that secret would stay buried, but Tom had inherited all the stubbornness that both of his parents held when they had a goal in sight. He'd gone after that secret, convinced that Reddington was keeping something from Liz that would put her in danger and never dreaming that it was the truth that would put her in danger. And then Tom had disappeared - dead, as far as those around them knew - and Reddington hated to admit that there had been a sense of relief in it. He hadn't remembered and there was no reason for him to. At this point, it wasn't something that he would have actively wished for, but it had protected that secret again right up until Elizabeth decided that her new life goal was to dig in and find the secret her husband had known.

And she had, or at least part of it. The bones belonged to someone named Raymond Reddington. What that meant for him, she still hadn't found. And wouldn't, if he could help it. For him, for her, for Katarina, and even for her husband and his family. The fact that the name Jonas Bauer was even being whispered through their disjointed ranks was enough to signal the tidal wave coming to drown them all. Red had tried to head it off over the years. He had spent years quietly working to swing the faction of the Cabal in the United States to his side or dismantle it - whichever worked out was fine by him - and Petrov's reemergence had been a sign that Bonn was looking to rekindle their relationship with what was left in the US. He'd put a stop to it, but he'd also inadvertently set Elizabeth on yet another trail that she refused to give up.

The moment that the Task Force had chosen to go to Matias Solomon for answers about Bonn, he had known that his control over the situation had slipped. If Jonas Bauer caught wind of them - which he would, Reddington knew he would - there was nothing they could do. Not like they were now. The distrust ran deep in all of them. He didn't trust them any more than they trusted him and he couldn't see that changing. No, for now, he had two goals: the first was to make sure that he always had more information than anyone else. He hated it, but he'd sent Dembe to Germany to find the pieces he knew they were likely missing. The second - infinitely more difficult than the first - was that he needed to find a way to convince Elizabeth to drop it. He needed to put as much distance between her and everything that was about to explode in their faces.

She couldn't know who Jonas Bauer was. If she did, she'd never stop.

The pounding on the front door startled Reddington out of his thoughts. He had returned to his apartment for a regiment of pills and in hopes of finding some clarity in the situation. He touched the revolver in its holster at his hip and moved carefully towards the door, ready to draw quickly, but found a familiar face through the peephole instead. He opened the door and Elizabeth's gaze was ice cold as she brushed past him into the apartment.

"Elizabeth," he breathed. "If I may -"

"You may not," she answered tightly.

He closed the door behind her and turned. "There was no malice involved. I never intended to take him from you."

"But you did, and then you lied about it." She tilted her head, her expression terrifyingly similar to Katarina's just before she killed somebody.

"I've never lied to you."

"Bullshit. You told me he was dead."

"He was. For all intents and purposes your _husband_ was dead. He didn't remember you, he escaped, and shy of storming St Regis' compound and dragging him back, I had no way to force him to return."

"You could have told me."

The words hung between them for a long moment and Reddington swallowed hard. "Perhaps," the confession rode out on a breath. "And what would it have gained you? What would you have done? Left Agnes, chased her father around the world? A man that didn't know you and might have even killed you before you had a chance to convince him."

Elizabeth squared her shoulders. "I'm not having this conversation with you," she stated firmly. "It's not worth it. You did what you always do: you made the decision for me. You took my choice away like I was a child. You're not my father, and even if you were I'm a grown woman. _I_ decide what to do with my life, not you." Her voice was brutally calm. "You've crossed lines before and, if I'm honest, I should have stood by every decision I've ever made to cut you out personally. Right now, you're my CI and I'm your handler. That's it, and I need information."

"What kind of information?" he asked carefully.

"Jonas Bauer was a name that Matias Solomon gave Cooper and Ressler before the Cabal killed him. He's Emilia Schmitz direct superior. You knew Schmitz's name. What do you know about Bauer?"

"Emilia Schmitz answers to Jonas Bauer?" Well, that was news. Last he had been aware the two had been part of separate circles within the Cabal. He certainly wouldn't have given Elizabeth the name if he'd known.

"Yes. What do you know about him? How is he linked to all of this?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You won't tell me that."

"That is also true."

Rage flickered across her expression before being shoved behind the mask of indifference. She looked him up and down, assessing and calculating. "I need this. Cooper, Ressler, Aram, and Park need this. You put us on this case. You sent us after The Collector and it's led us here."

"It was never supposed to lead you _here_ ," he confessed softly.

"But it did, and now you're putting my team in danger by withholding key pieces of information that we need for this case. They killed Solomon just a few hours after he met with Cooper and Ressler. Matias Solomon. A man with deep knowledge about their organization and that could slip away and squirm out of almost anything. They were able to track him down in a New York subway tunnel and kill him. They already sent someone after Ress and I'd put money on the fact that they'll send the same level of people after them that they did Solomon now that they know the stakes. I'm asking for your help. You cost my family two and a half years of indescribable pain. If my team is hurt because you refuse to help us…."

"Elizabeth, this is your life."

"Yes, it is. That's my point."

"No. Jonas Bauer _will_ cost you your life if you continue down this path. He will cost everyone you love their lives. Drop it."

"He'll kill my team."

"And do you love them as dearly as you do your family?"

"They _are_ my family!" The outburst nearly caused Reddington to flinch and he saw tears standing in her eyes now. "Don't you understand what they mean to me? Let me protect them. _Please_."

"The only way to protect them now is to drop this."

"And run?" Elizabeth asked, her tone more controlled now. "Is that what you've been doing all this time?"

"Yes," the truth slipped out. "And sometimes you must."

"You and Tom agree on some of the strangest things," she whispered and pulled her phone from her pocket. He saw her husband's photo flash across the screen before she swiped to answer it. "Hey." There was a pause and she glanced at Reddington. "Okay. I'm on my way."

"Elizabeth -"

"I have to go."

She didn't give him a chance to argue before storming out of the apartment, the door shutting hard behind her. Reddington stood rooted in place and his gaze remained fixed on the door. She wasn't going to drop it. He knew her, and he knew there was no convincing her now.

* * *

The living quarters and medical facilities had made the Halcyon-owned building perfect for what the Keens had needed it for, but the full gym on the basement level had been a nice perk, especially when it came to keeping an active four-year-old entertained. There was a pool with a hot tub that was shallow enough for her to paddle around in with her floaties, the water only coming up to Tom's waist. He sat with her, his bare feet on the step as he leaned against his knees and his mind spun through everything that had happened. It helped a little to be down there with her. There was something about Agnes' unburdened laughter that helped ease the weight bearing down on him. It gave him hope, he thought. Hope that even if he never recovered all of his memories, he could make new ones. He could live out his days with this family he hadn't even known, but had so desperately needed. They could leave everything behind, change their names, and disappear from all of this. They could protect each other.

"She's bigger than I imagined."

Tom jumped, turning to find Katarina Rostova standing over him, her blue gaze fixed on the little girl dog paddling around, oblivious to the new presence. He narrowed his eyes as she took a seat with him. "What do you want?"

"To tell you I know what you're going to do."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know that people like us are complicated. We fill so many roles that it can be easy to lose perspective on our own thoughts, our own feelings."

"Just shells to be filled up, huh?" he echoed the words she'd spoken to him before, bitterness seeping into his tone.

"I think I was wrong there," she breathed. "It was easier to believe than to face the more…. difficult emotions. Pain, loss, abandonment." Her gaze slid over to him and there was something strangely real in those eyes that reminded him of Liz's own. He wouldn't go as far to say that the walls were down - he wasn't a fool - but there was something more open about them. Like she was sharing a secret with him. "You know you can't run from this. Raymond's tried for a very, very long time. He became who he is now to run from his past and all it's done is brought everyone he loves more pain. You and Masha are living that now. We have to end this."

He'd become who he was now. A flash of a memory put him at a train station with a document in hand. A secret linked to Garvey and the bag and… Tom shook it off. "We don't have anything to do with this," he whispered, his voice unsteady and he looked back to Agnes. Smiling, laughing, swimming. Peace warred with turmoil.

"You have everything to do with this. I know you don't trust me, and after finding out what you did about Raymond I can't even say I blame you. Look at me for a moment." She waited until he did, finally tearing his gaze away from Agnes. "I know you've had a lot stolen from you. Do you remember the beach? The seagulls overhead and the sandcastles that you two put together."

Tom found that he couldn't look away now, his mind's eye filling in images that coincided with her words. He wasn't sure if they were memories or his imagination, but he could smell the salt in the air and feel the warm sand under his toes. A laugh - not Agnes' this time. A little higher pitched, a little younger - echoed in his thoughts and he swallowed hard.

"There was a rhyme."

"She loved tongue twisters," Tom breathed, an image flashing through his memories of a younger Scottie Hargrave dressed in a black one piece bathing suit with a sheer cover flowing open and a floppy hat shading her face. The memory smiled, her lips moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

"What kind?"

A buzzing sound shattered the moment, dragging him out of the memory abruptly and he found himself back at the edge of the hot tub, Agnes watching them curiously now, and he hadn't had a flash like that while conscious. It was strange. Unnerving. He looked down to his phone and snatched it so that Katarina couldn't catch a glimpse of the alert.

 _He surfaced. Drop site for coordinates_.

"Tom, I need to know what you remember," Katarina said pointedly.

He looked at her, his gaze harder now. "Why?"

"To end this. You and and Masha -"

"This have something to do with the secret Scottie wanted to tell me? What she did?" He saw a flash of surprise so brief he almost missed it, but he knew he was right. "I don't know what you two did to us, but I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told her: even if you spelled it out, I wouldn't trust it." He turned back to his daughter. "C'mon, kiddo."

She didn't argue, but was already climbing up the step and took his hand as he got to his feet. That little hand tightened in his as they rounded into an empty hall and Tom pulled the ringing phone to his ear. It connected and he heard Liz's voice. "Hey. One of my contacts came through. We found Illya."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Sorry I missed the update last week, but hello from the West Coast! The cat, my car, and I are all in LA. Now if I could just get my stuff delivered, that'd be awesome :') 

This has been a wild journey so far and it's only beginning. I'm really glad I was as far ahead in writing this story so, hopefully, I won't miss anymore updates. I haven't written a lot the last few weeks and I'm really hoping to work up the mental and emotionally energy to get back to it tonight. Between work and the move it's left me utterly spent, but I'm in for the night, have a glass of wine, and here's hoping my brain cooperates! :D

For this chapter... anyone feeling their trust shift or is everyone still pretty distrustful of the parents? :P

 **Next Time** : The Keens track down Ilya and Katarina gets an unexpected call.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keens track down Ilya and Katarina gets an unexpected call.

Sometimes the job could catch up to you all at once. The long nights, the stress, people trying to kill or manipulate you or both. Sometimes it didn't wait until the end to come crashing down around you. Sometimes it was a constant state of being, and as Liz glanced over to where Tom was leaned back in the passenger seat of the car that they had rented to drive to a little town outside of New Haven where Alex Cullen - Ilya Koslov - had tucked himself away, she knew he felt it too. It was why he'd wanted to run, and there she was dragging them both back into it.

Or was she? Sometimes it was hard to know where one of them pushed and the other pulled or if circumstances on whole dragged them in before they even realized they were moving. The intel had come in and they were on their way before it had even clicked with her that they were supposed to be running right now, putting distance between them and Reddington and everything that was happening. Agnes wasn't in the back seat, though. She was staying with Aram while they chased down a ghost that had known her mother in hopes that he knew something about Jonas Bauer. There hadn't even been a discussion, though. Tom had called her, they had met, and he'd laid out a plan to rent a car under a false name to drive up to Connecticut in hopes that they wouldn't tip Reddington, Katarina, or anyone else that might be watching off and spook Koslov. They could fly back to DC once they had the answers.

It had been a solid plan, but the six plus hour drive was long enough for the quiet to let her stew in everything they'd filled each other in on. There were too many questions and it left them exposed and vulnerable.

"What are we going to do if he doesn't know anything?"

Tom turned to look at her, blinking like he'd been close to dozing in his seat when her question filled the quiet car. "We have the photo Aram and Park were able to pull. If he doesn't know Bauer, that's one lead we can check off."

"We're not getting away from it, are we?"

He frowned a little at that and a sigh escaped him. "Your mom seems to think we're pretty closely tied to it."

"And you believe her?"

"On that, yeah. On if she's telling us the whole truth, no. Not at all."

"I can't tell if they think we're still kids or pawns."

"Both?" Tom offered and she heard him shift, folding his long legs up into the seat with him. "What's your earliest memory?"

"Why?"

"Something your mom said. I'll explain, but I don't want to lead you on it."

Fair enough. Liz pulled in a breath and readjusted her grip on the wheel. "I had my memories manipulated after a fire where I shot my father. Dr Orchard told me when I first met her that it was possible that they were jumbled because of that, but I think my first memories are at a place that my mother's husband called The Summer Palace. It was this house in Canada that he owned and that I spent some time in. I remember my mother burying a canister with a bracelet in it like a time capsule. It's strange and clipped, but I remember her face. I remember her voice. I remember feeling….. so happy she was there with me." She pursed her lips together in a grimace, blinking back the threat of tears. "I don't know if it's true. The woman that showed up, that hired you and that's been manipulating all of this, she has her face but I don't feel safe with her."

"We're not safe," Tom said quietly. "But we're not kids anymore. It's on us to make sure we're safe. Agnes too."

She risked a look out of the corner of her eye at him and reached out, finding his hand and they laced their fingers together. "What's yours? Earliest memory, I mean?"

"Your mom was talking about the beach and something that Scottie… told me, I guess? The image was so vivid it was like one of my memory sessions."

"You think it was a memory?"

"I don't know. You were there."

"At the beach? With you?"

"Yeah." He tightened his hold on her hand. "When Scottie said she wanted to help me get my memories back, I thought she was just helping. That she cared, but she's had her hand in it and with Katarina trying to…. find some memory…."

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know, but… I think we're doing the right thing here. Following the leads ourselves. It's the only way we'll know for sure." She nodded and felt him pull her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "We're still a few hours out. You want me to drive so you can get some sleep?"

"Sure," she answered, pulling towards the side of the road, not that either of them had really expected to catch any sleep that night anyway.

* * *

Of all the calls that Katarina might have expected in the earliest hours of that morning after her failed attempt to coax Tom closer to the memories, the one that said that her father was awake wasn't one of them. The sun was creeping up over the horizon as she pulled up to the alleyway she could park in to make her way several blocks over to the warehouse. The lights were still low, but she saw Raymond standing just outside of the room. He turned as she entered. "I wasn't sure you would come."

The words might have stung once. She had been close with her father. Not just his only daughter, but his protegée. His legacy in the KGB. Until they discovered her split loyalties, that was. That knowledge had shattered so much. "He's my father," she answered and started past him, but he caught her arm.

"Have you spoken to Elizabeth?"

"No. Sometimes you need to let a situation breathe."

"To Tom then," he sighed and there were moments when she hated how well he still knew her. "She'll listen to him. If you've -"

"I'm not the one that stole the love of her life from her," Katarina popped back, wrenching her arm free and breezing past him into the room.

The doctor was with Dom, asking him to follow a light with his eyes. He did, but that sharp gaze swiveled around to the door and came to rest on her. His jaw dropped just a little before he caught himself, his expression immediately snapping back to a more neutral state and he pursed his lips into a long frown. "Could you give us a moment?"

Clemons looked over and gave a short, brief nod before packing his supplies up and scooting out of the makeshift room. Dom's eyes remained on her, feeling like they were boring through all of her defenses to leave them shattered in pieces on the floor. She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. "Lia's dead."

"Your hand?"

"My bullet."

He made a small sound of acknowledgement and settled into his pillows a little deeper, finally breaking eye contact as if he had lost interest. She knew he hadn't, but it didn't stop an old, deeply buried desire to force him to look around and to acknowledge that she'd done it for _him_. Her childhood, her life…. so much had been for him for so long. She didn't hate him for it, but this far out she could at least acknowledge it. Emotions were complicated, messy things.

Katarina circled the bed and this time she was the one that initiated eye-contact. "She was posing as me. She was going to hurt Masha."

"I wouldn't expect you to kill her for me."

"Added bonus." The words slipped out, but she let a smirk accompany them and slowly he echoed it.

"It's been too long, золотце," he murmured.

"It wasn't safe."

"It still isn't."

She studied him for a long moment before glancing up quickly to confirm that they were alone. "He's closing in," she confessed softly.

"Who?"

"Alexei."

Dom stiffened at the name, his expression darkening. "Does he know?"

"About Raymond? Not as far as we're aware."

"Only a matter of time," Dom huffed. "He was always a bloodhound. I warned you, if you remember."

"Affairs do require two," she countered sharply.

"That boy was always a fool for you. You should have let him go, Katarina. Let him live his life he'd built, but no. You pulled him back in and look what it cost him. What it's cost you and your daughter —"

A machine sounded a warning and the doctor rushed back in, shooting her an irritable look for riling him up. She took a step back, then another, and finally moved towards the adjacent room where Raymond was sitting on the couch looking very worn. He glanced over to her, but didn't let whatever judgement he had slip off of his tongue. There was something in his expression, though, and for a fraction of a moment she let herself imagine what life would have been like if she had never come into contact with a young Naval Officer that had called himself Raymond Reddington. His career would have flourished. He always succeeded when he set his mind to it. He would have stayed with Carla and raised her little girl as his own. He wouldn't be dying now.

"I wouldn't change my decision," he confessed, and it was a stark reminder of how he had always been able to read her. "You and me. I don't regret it."

"Why?" The question rode out on a breath and she hated how small it had sounded.

He held her gaze and she could see all the years between them. The good, the bad, and everything between, but a single name summed it up. "Elizabeth."

A small smile tilted her lips. "At least we did one thing right."

He gave a small, non-committal sound and she took a seat next to him.

* * *

They had driven through the night and had made it to New Haven far too early to go straight to Koslov's apartment and expect any kind of useful results, so the Keens had taken time to grab coffee and breakfast at a bakery and go over their gameplan. Between that and traffic that they landed in, it was nearly eight by the time they parked and made their way towards a set of classic New England, redbrick apartments. Tom risked a look around. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

"Probably Reddington's people," Liz huffed. "It just means we need to move quickly."

He nodded, but the instinctual feeling of discomfort didn't wane even as he followed Liz up the stairs to the apartment. He let his gaze sweep the street as she knocked and waited, but there was no clear sign of a threat. He turned as the door opened to reveal a man around sixty, blond, and dressed in jeans and a button up hanging open over a t-shirt. His brows drew together as he looked at them both, but his gaze settled on Liz. No one spoke for several moments, but Tom could see the shift in his expression and Koslov loosed a long breath in the form of a sigh. "I wondered when this day would come."

Liz's shoulders squared a little at the statement. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course, Masha. Come inside."

She looked back to him and Tom gave a small, encouraging nod as he followed her in and shut the door behind them.

Koslov started for the kitchen. "You have good timing. Linda - my wife - is out. After everything that happened, she wouldn't be thrilled to see Katarina's daughter standing in our living room." As he spoke, he kept a careful look on them both from the corner of his eye, watching and waiting for any reaction. He was trained, which made sense for the company he kept.

"I know that the woman that kidnapped you isn't my mother," Liz offered and a little tension worked out of Koslov's stance as he reached for the coffee pot and started going through the motions of brewing a new pot. "You knew my mother, though, and the woman that was posing as her."

"It was a complicated situation," he answered softly.

"I'm hoping you'll help to uncomplicate it."

"And that's why you're here?" he asked, starting the brew

"Yes."

He drew in a breath and looked past Liz to Tom. "And he is?"

"My husband."

He hummed softly and didn't look like he disbelieved her, exactly, but more like he recognized that that wasn't all of it. There was a moment, then another, and he chewed on his lip slightly before saying, "You come from a family full of secrets."

"I know."

"Secrets that aren't mine to tell." The coffee finished and chimed an alert. Koslov grabbed three mugs from the cabinet and filled them up.

"But they're mine to know," Liz pressed.

He set the coffee mugs on the table and moved to the fridge for the creamer. He set it all down together, took a seat in the chair facing the door, and Liz took the one that put her back to it. She grabbed the third mug and set it across the table for Tom, putting his back to the solid kitchen wall and giving him a better vantage point so that they wouldn't be surprised if someone entered. Tom took the seat as Koslov set to fixing his coffee, not looking up as he spoke again. "What, exactly, do you know?"

Liz took a sip from her black coffee. "I know that you know or did know my mother - Katarina Rostova - her father, the man we know as Raymond Reddington, and the woman whose name I don't know, but was posing as my mother. The woman who kidnapped you for information."

"Lia," he breathed, a sadness seeping into his tone.

Tom took a gamble. "She's dead."

That drew Koslov's attention to him and there was a brief flash of sorrow in his blue eyes. "How?"

"Let's start with this," Liz said firmly. "You tell me what you know about her and I'll give you that answer."

He nodded. "She… worked with your mother."

"As a doppelgänger Katarina Rostova," Liz acknowledged the piece of the puzzle that they already had.

"Yes. She was KGB. Very talented. When your mother became pregnant with you, Lia was the one that helped shield the secret. She would appear - sometimes very intentionally - for jobs under your mother's name so that even if rumours circulated about a child, they remained just that."

"She protected me?"

"She protected your mother. She…. idolized her."

"Then where did it go wrong?"

Koslov sighed, taking a long sip of his own coffee. "There were…. Complications," he said carefully. "A target was put on your mother's back. Two of us -"

"You and Dom."

"Yes," he answered softly. "Dom and I convinced Lia to step into a position to allow your mother to escape. Nothing went as planned, and the people after her didn't believe that she was dead. We staged a public death."

"Of Lia."

"Yes."

"You killed the man she loved instead," Liz filled in the blank and Tom wondered just how many stories that Maddie Tolliver had told her were more than just fragments of truths.

"He wasn't the target, but yes. Any loyalty she had after that was destroyed. We took precautions, changed names, and she must have done the same. She was deep into hiding until Raymond asked me to find her. He was….always conflicted over what happened."

"Was he involved?"

"Connected, yes, but Raymond wanted to pursue other options. He didn't think she needed to die to protect Katarina." His gaze flickered from his mug to meet Liz's. "How did she die?"

"My mother saved Tom and me. She shot her."

He nodded, sadness and what looked like it might have been guilt plastered on his face for the whole world to see. "She deserved more loyalty from us than we could give her."

"She kidnapped you and rummaged around in your memories," Liz said tightly and Tom schooled his own expression. She hadn't mentioned that, only that Tolliver had had Koslov in her custody at one point.

A thin, mirthless smile tugged his lips just a little. "If there's one thing you should know, Masha, it's that nothing - absolutely _nothing_ \- in this is simple. If you expect it to be, if you try to….fit it into the perimeters of your or some other morality, you'll be pulled under by it all. Katarina wouldn't want that."

"She's the reason we're in this," Tom murmured and Koslov's gaze slid around to study him for a moment.

Liz reached into her pocket for her phone and pulled up the photo that Aram had supplied them with of Jonas Bauer. He was a thick man in his mid eighties, with a deep frown and dark blue eyes. His hair, what little was left of it, had gone white and was closely cropped. "This is Jonas Bauer, a businessman out of Germany. Do you know him?"

There was a flicker of recognition mixed with fear in Koslov's eyes, but the front door opened and broke the moment. Tom was on his feet in an instant, his hand reaching around for his gun until he heard a voice accompany it. "Honey? Are you home? I was halfway there when I realized I'd left my phone." A blonde woman circled around into the kitchen and stared at Liz. "You. You were on the news a few years ago. Masha Rostova."

"My name is Elizabeth Keen. I'm a federal agent," Liz said calmly, standing and reaching for her badge. "I'm just asking your husband a few -"

"I don't care what name you call yourself. Get out."

"Linda -" Koslov started, but she turned and fixed a hard look on him.

"We had built a life together and these people destroyed it. Reddington, anyone connected to him. We said we'd leave it behind, but it just keeps following us."

Koslov nodded slowly and turned back to Liz. "You should go."

Liz held her phone up again. "I'm going to ask you again: do you know this man?"

"I don't know anyone named Jonas Bauer," he said forcefully and Tom pulled in a breath.

"Thank you. You've been…. very helpful."

"We're not done here," Liz snapped and he caught her gaze, desperately trying to convey that they had to be. Tom had been through every kind of interrogation possible and he knew when it was over. Liz, though, was letting her emotions take hold. She took a step towards Koslov. "Do you know what my mother did to me? Why did my father felt like he had to take me from her? There are too many questions."

"I can't answer those for you," he said softly.

"No, you won't. This is _my_ life. I built a life too. With my husband and our little girl and all of this…" A sob choked her and she swallowed hard. "I won't let them destroy that."

"It's not them that you should worry about."

"You need to go," Linda said firmly.

Tom circled the table. His touch was light on her arm, but she turned to look at him. Her expression shattered something inside of him and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and promise her it would be alright. They would make it alright. He couldn't, though. Right then they needed to make themselves scarce and regroup. There'd be another path to follow. There always was. "C'mon," he coaxed softly.

She cringed at that, but nodded, pocketing both her phone and her badge. "Thank you, for what you could say," she offered and started for the door.

"Hey," Koslov called out to Tom and he turned. "Raymond would do anything for her. Anything."

"It's what he does to her that's the problem," Tom answered and followed his wife out to the street.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Fair warning, I don't speak Russian, but according to the phenomenal invention that is Google search, золотце / золотко (zolotse / zolotko) means gold and is used for a child. While, at least in this story (and I wonder about canon with the garage full of American toys Dom had), Katarina spent some of her childhood Stateside, I love the idea of Dom having a sweet nickname for his little girl.  


**Next Time** : The Keens divert to Texas to speak to Howard and the Task Force receives yet another surprise.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keens divert to Texas to speak to Howard and the Task Force receives yet another surprise.

Tom didn't try to force her to talk on the drive from Ilya's apartment to the airport or even as they moved through security. It wasn't until a cup of coffee appeared in front of where she sat brooding in the terminal gate that she knew it was coming. Liz heaved a sigh, took the drink, and thanked him as he plopped into the seat next to her.

"It wasn't a total loss," he said softly, his dark blue gaze focused on something in front of him rather than on her.

"How's that? All we really got were a few confirmations of stories others told and Tolliver's real name. If she were alive, that might be useful, but she's the least of our worries now."

"Koslov recognized Bauer. Maybe not the name, but definitely his face."

Liz turned to look at him. Interesting. She had been so worked up that she might have missed it. "What do you think that means?"

"That he's tied to it all, but you saw him. We're not going to get any further with that one. He got out, he's not going to give that up to help us." He sighed, leaning back in his own chair. "We need someone else tied to all of this that isn't…. Reddington, Katarina, or Scottie. Those three are in so deep that we can't trust anything they say."

Liz blinked hard, the answer slamming into place so clearly that she wondered how it hadn't crossed her mind before. "Howard."

"Howard?"

"Your dad."

"I thought he was…. unstable?"

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean he can't be useful. Cooper'll be able to find out where they're holding him. Maybe get us in. We can get something at least."

"Worth a shot."

Okay, she could work with this. It was a path forward. That's all she needed to help slow the frustrated spiral.

A voice over the intercom called out a boarding announcement for their plane and Liz grabbed her phone to send a quick text.

_Need to find out where Howard Hargrave is being held and get in to see him._

She hit send and stood, starting towards the line to board the plane with Tom at her side.

* * *

Donald Ressler leaned back in the chair he had claimed in the bullpen outside of the office he shared with Keen, blue eyes skimming the details of Howard Hargrave's trial, sentencing, and eventual work-release to an Army base in central Texas. It would have taken anybody else weeks to have gotten the unredacted files, but one call from Cooper had sent the DOJ scurrying to send over anything they had. He must have called in a favour with Panabaker. Keen was going to owe him one when she got back in.

"Uncle Donnie?"

Ressler glanced down to find a pair of dark blue eyes focused on him as their owner rocked back and forth on her heels like she did when she wanted something she knew she had to really butter someone up for. "What's up, kiddo?"

"Can we go to the park?"

"Your mom and dad are on their way back," he told Agnes. "Maybe they'll take you when they get here."

"Oh," she answered, pouting just a little.

Ressler turned back to the file just in time for Agnes to tap him on the arm to get his attention again. "Uncle Donnie? I'm hungry."

He grimaced, wracking his brain for what they might have stored away in the small kitchen. It wasn't like the Post Office was designed to be kid-friendly, but they were bound to have something. They couldn't just send her home with a babysitter right then. Not with everything going on.

A loud alert screeched out from the computer systems. Agnes jumped and covered her ears at the sound while Ressler looked to Aram who was scrambling to get it switched off. "What is that?"

"Not good," Aram answered distractedly as he worked.

Park straightened at her desk and Ressler heard Cooper's office door open and the sound of his footsteps echoing as he started down the stairs.

"I have an algorithm running, checking feeds and an alert is set to go off if anyone is caught entering the US that I have flagged."

Ressler watched the main screen on the wall flicker to life as Aram mirrored his own computer to it. A photo from what looked like a train terminal showed a man and a woman, both mid sixties. It appeared to be the woman who had set off Aram's alarm. Next to the photo was a closeup that showed points of recognition marked on her face next to a set of photos pulled from Mike Weiss' jumpdrive he'd given Ressler on Emilia Schmitz along with a photo that had been aged up to what the computer predicted she would look like now. It matched the photos from the terminal almost exactly.

"Holy shit," Ressler breathed.

"Holy shit!"

He jerked back around to the small voice that had echoed him and Agnes had an impish grin plastered across her face. Ressler stared at her in horror. "Let's not say that when your mom gets back, okay?"

Somehow that grin only grew. "Holy shit!" she announced again and Ressler knew that wasn't going to end well. He reached over, ruffling her hair with a frustrated sigh as he turned back to the case at hand.

"Who's that with her?" Park asked, motioning to the man.

"Not sure. I'll have to run him through facial recognition," Aram answered.

The sound of the lift coming down from ground level caught Ressler's attention, but he didn't look around until Agnes squealed, "Hi, Mr Red!"

Their CI paused as the little girl raced across the War Room towards him, chattering the whole way. His expression softened and he offered her a smile, taking his hat from his head and setting it on hers so that it tilted over her eyes and pulled another high pitched, squealing laugh from her. That poor kid had way too much energy to be stuck in an FBI blacksite.

Reddington's gaze flickered back up and landed on the screen, instantly darkening at the images of Schmitz. "She's here."

"Do you recognize the man with her?" Cooper asked.

Reddington tilted his head to the side, studying it. "No, but that doesn't mean I don't know who he is." His gaze didn't waver as he moved closer, Agnes watching him from beneath his fedora. The Post Office had gone silent as they all waited.

Ressler pushed a frustrated breath out his nose. "Feel like sharing?"

And just like that the spell was broken and the older man shook his head a little, as if breaking himself from it. He flashed that smug smile of his. "I'd wager a considerable amount of my immense fortune that that -" he motioned at that man - "is the ever illusive Neville Townsend."

"Townsend?" Park echoed. "Like the Townsend Directive that Liz was talking about?"

"One in the same. He has representatives here, but rarely travels this far west himself." He glanced around. "Where is Agent Keen?"

"On her way in," Cooper answered vaguely.

"From?"

Cooper's lips stretched at the corners, his smile not exactly friendly. He and Reddington stood sizing each other up for a long moment before Reddington was eventually the first to give. "Very well. Where she's been is not nearly as important as where she is."

Ressler tensed ever so slightly as his boss' gaze flickered to him, but Reddignton didn't look around. "I understand. You're welcome to wait here for her. She should be in at any time," Cooper offered and Ressler slipped out of the chair and eased his way off to an adjacent hallway. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and hit the first number on speed dial.

The phone rang once, twice, and a third time before it connected to background noise and what may have been someone fumbling with the phone. " _Keen_."

"Hey," Ressler said quietly, slipping a little deeper into the hall. "Reddington just showed up."

" _Everything okay?_ "

"We flagged Emilia Schmitz crossing into New York across the Canadian border with a man he's saying is Neville Townsend."

His partner loosed a breath on the other end of the line. " _If we come in now we're never getting back out to get to Howard_."

"That's why I'm calling. We have the details on where he's being kept and I'll call ahead."

" _Agnes…_ "

"Is fine. She's here with us."

There was a beat of silence from the other end. " _I owe you_."

"Honestly, Keen, I've lost count on who owes who anymore. I'm sending you the intel on Hargrave. Just... watch your back, okay?"

" _You too_."

He ended the call and looked over, finding a set of dark blue eyes on him again. Agnes studied him, all of her earlier excitement put away. "Mommy and Daddy?"

Ressler put a finger to his lips. "Our secret, okay?" he said as he sent the file and punched in the number that had been listed as the point of contact for Hargrave's case.

Agnes nodded solemnly and didn't say anything else as she walked forward and took his hand, content to hold on as if it made her feel a little safer somehow.

* * *

They hadn't left the airport yet when Liz had talked to Ressler, so the turnaround to catch a flight down to Texas wasn't bad. They flew into Austin, rented a car, and drove up to Killeen. By the time they arrived the sun was starting to dip in the sky and the lack of sleep the night before was starting to weigh on Tom.

Liz flashed her badge and they received an escort onto base to a small lab where a man that Tom only recognised from a photo was working. The man didn't bother to look up until their escort said, "Hargrave, you have visitors."

Howard turned as if he were ready to argue, but stopped immediately at the sight of them. His clear blue gaze didn't linger on Liz, but snapped over to Tom.

Liz took a step forward. "Howard, I know this is —"

"He was telling the truth," Howard breathed, still staring at Tom. "You're alive."

"We were hoping you could answer some questions for us," Liz said and their escort told them that he'd be outside if they needed him. Now it was just the three of them.

Howard stood slowly from his seat and crossed the space, never taking his eyes off Tom. Slowly, as if in awe, he reached up to the side of his face. Tom didn't dare move as the older man's hand traveled up and his thumb ran along his hairline. "There. That scar. You fell off your tricycle when you were three. They wouldn't replicate that. They wouldn't have known." His words tumbled out quickly, almost as if he were trying to convince himself rather than explain his odd behavior. His fingers lingered just a moment more before he finally pulled his hand back. "Red said you had lost some memories."

Tom felt his temper flare at the casual reminder of just how much Reddington had taken from them. "Reddington's the reason why," he answered tightly and watched surprise - real, he thought - flash through Howard's eyes.

"He was here not too long ago trying to drag me back into his war," Howard murmured. "How much do you remember of your time with Halcyon?"

"Nothing," Tom answered.

"But I filled him in on what happened," Liz added, drawing Howard's attention back to her.

Tom squared his shoulder a little. "I know what you did to Scottie-" Howard snorted - "and I know that you used me to get to her. That's why you're here."

"Just because they found me guilty doesn't mean your mother is innocent, Tom." He glanced back at Liz. "What questions did you have for me?"

Tom watched her study him, her lips pursing together. From what she had told him she had a complicated opinion on Howard. She didn't trust him - she'd been very careful to avoid saying that she did - but she did think he was useful and she certainly thought he'd be willing to share against Scottie. The biggest question between them had been if what he shared would have any truth at all mixed into it. If the so-far brief conversation was anything to go by, there was little love left between his parents.

"Let's start with what Reddington came to see you about," Liz said, pulling up a seat and settling in.

Howard nodded slowly. "You know your mother is back in play?"

"I do."

"How does Scottie know her?" The question left Tom's lips without permission, and now it hung heavy in the air between the three of them only to be met after a moment by Howard's rough chuckle.

"That has been the puzzle of a lifetime," he said, following Liz's lead and reclaiming his own chair. Tom remained standing, his posture rigid and he couldn't take his eyes off of Howard as he waited for an answer to his question. Howard sighed. "You were taken when you were four. I'm sure Liz has filled you in on the details there." He pauses until Tom nodded. "At the time I was certain it was my fault. For years, really. There was an organisation - one that Red had ties to - that had been trying to work their way into my company through any means they could for years and your disappearance had every sign of a ransomed kidnapping gone wrong. They'd been lurking, pressuring…. to the point that your mother and I fought about what she called my obsession with it the night you were taken. I went for a walk on the beach to cool down and when I came back, you were gone."

Tom found himself focused in on the story, every muscle tensed. "There was a video, wasn't there?" he asked uncertainly as an image flickered through his mind and he looked to Liz for confirmation. "A man confessed to killing me."

Howard made a small sound of acknowledgement. "A paid actor to stop us from looking. Or to stop me from looking, more likely."

"Who paid him?" Liz asked.

"The money traced back to a shelf corporation. Despite my digging, I was never able to link it back to the organization. I believe you call it the Cabal."

Tom felt a chill run down his spine. "Scottie knows Katarina through your association with Reddington then?"

"I thought she did. She would have you think she did, but no. I believe Scottie worked with Katarina before we ever met. I believe that the Cabal inserted Scottie into my life to take control of my company."

"The plane crash," Liz breathed.

Howard nodded. "And the attempt to throw me out of my own company so that she could finally take hold of it for them. Scottie always has known how to play a long game."

"She said she needed to tell me something before Liz and I left," Tom said quietly. "I think… that must have been it."

"Whatever it was, it wouldn't have been the whole truth," Howard said bitterly. "The woman is incapable of honesty. There's always an angle with her."

"You too." Tom met Howard's sharp gaze and he could feel the headache creeping into place as pieces of memories trickling across his mind's eye like water leaking through cracks in a dam. "You weren't honest with me either. Why should we believe you now?"

Howard stood slowly and there was something sad in his gaze. "Everything you went through following you abducted- the Phelps', your training with St Regis, the jobs you were placed in, _everything_ \- do you really think that was by chance? No. In the four short years she had with you, your mother made sure to… embed certain skills to be honed later. She was making sure that you would be useful to her later."

"How?"

"I don't know for sure, but I found traces and whispers of contacts that I believe were hers. Training that -"

"Could be triggered by words? Like nursery rhymes? Tongue twisters?"

"Certainly possible."

"Tom?"

Tom looked over to his wife and it felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn't breathe for a moment, but as she stood and laid a careful hand on his arm he finally dragged in enough air to push the words out. "Katarina. Right before we left. She said… she was trying to get me to remember the beach as something Scottie had left with me. Something important."

"To her," Howard growled. "They used you. Both of them. You weren't their children, you were their legacies. Why do you think Red took you, Liz? Why do you think he tried to save you from her?"

Liz shook her head. "Red didn't. My father —"

Howard's dark brows drew together. "Has no one told you? 'Course not. That's how they work." He paused again as if for dramatic effect before the words slipped out with utter certainty: "Raymond Reddington _is_ your father."

* * *

It was getting late and there was no way that the paperwork to temporarily release Howard into FBI custody would ever be finished in time to fly him out that night. They grabbed a motel room to reset before the paperwork came through in the morning and they had to hit the ground running again.

As Agnes' voice filtered through the phone, telling her about all the fun she'd had with Uncle Donnie and Uncle Adam that day, how Mr Red had let her wear his hat until he'd left, and how she was spending the night at Uncle Donnie's, Liz desperately tried to focus. It was when Agnes asked her when she and her daddy were coming home that she nearly lost it. Tom was right there though, and fractured memories or not he'd always been better at smoothing over worries. "Soon as we can, kiddo," he promised, sliding the cell phone from where Liz had been holding it so they could both hear it on speaker phone. She gave him a thankful nod and he returned it with a strained smile. Neither of them had left that meeting unscathed.

Liz let Tom's voice fade to the background and her thoughts wander. DNA tests could be faked, that much had become painfully obvious over the years. It all boiled down to trusting the source. The source that had delivered the news that Raymond Reddington was her father was Harold Cooper, a man she trusted with her - and her family's - life. The bones - the test Tom had nearly been killed for - had come back saying that they belonged to Raymond Reddington. The logical conclusion was that Raymond Reddington was her father, but that the man that had dropped into her life wasn't actually Raymond Reddington. Now Howard, a man that supposedly knew him well at one time, was claiming Red was her father. It was enough to give her a migraine to rival the ones Tom had been suffering through. Liz curled up in a chair next to the window to watch the nearly empty parking lot below, hoping to focus on that and let her raging thoughts sort themselves out.

"Hey."

She turned, Tom's soft voice pulling her back around and she reached back for his hand, trying for a smile. "Hey."

Tom took her hand and knelt down next to her chair, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. It was a good kind of strange how he was acting more and more like himself every day. Each memory fitting back into place brought them a little closer, even if the world around them felt like it was falling apart. "Agnes is good. She told me to tell you she was going to have a glitter party."

That pulled the smallest of smiles from Liz. "Poor Ress."

"Hey, he volunteered." She leaned her head back against the chair and Tom tightened his hold on her hand. "You okay?"

"Just processing… or trying to. How about you?"

He shook his head and she saw his jaw clench in an agitated manner. "I just keep going over what Howard said about Scottie and Katarina and -"

"What my mother said before we left?"

"Yeah."

"You think that's why my mother found you? Why she brought you back?"

"Probably."

"Do you think…." She sighed, shaking her head as if it would banish the question that was trying to make its way off her tongue.

"No bad ideas right now," Tom murmured, his voice flat.

"Do you think that's why Reddington took your memories?" She hated how pained her own voice sounded and she hated that, even after everything they'd been through, somehow her mind was still trying to find a way to make sense of what Reddington had done to them.

Tom shook his head. "No. I think he was trying to keep me from remembering something about him, not Scottie or Katarina."

"But you don't remember what?"

"No, but they will."

"I thought you said you didn't trust them."

Her husband sighed. "Everyone keeps talking about this war we're at the center of, but no one'll tell us what it is. Now we have someone willing to help us that knows enough to make him dangerous. Stick Howard in the middle of it and I think something real will fall out."

"Or explode," Liz said quietly.

She looked over to see a little bit of mischief in Tom's eyes. "I'm counting on that. It's crazy how honest people accidentally become when you spark the emotional powder keg."

Liz hummed softly, a small smile of her own tugging into place as he lifted her knuckles to his lips again. She stood slowly and he held onto her hand as long as he could without following her on her clear trajectory to the bathroom. Her fingers slipped free reluctantly and she pulled her shirt up and over her head, risking a glance behind her. "You coming?"

Tom was on his feet in half a second, following behind her. As they crossed through the doorframe he caught her, pulling her into a kiss. Her hands dropped, fingers working deftly to undo his belt while he had a hand pressed to either side of her face, holding her in the kiss.

Somewhere along the way they managed to get out of their clothes and turn the shower on, stumbling into it together. Their hands slipped and their kisses became messy, and in the rush of it all he stopped, holding her gaze like it was his own personal lifeline. "I love you," he breathed, leaning his forehead to touch hers as his hands drifted down her bare back, fingers teasing the skin along her spine. He leaned in, the kisses a little more gentle now and he made his way down her jaw and her neck and to the crook of her shoulder and her collar bone. Liz felt a soft breath leave her as he moved, the hot water pouring down around them.

Her hands traveled down his ribs, finding the scars along his right side and she felt the pain from the memory. She'd missed him. Even having had him back, she would never forget how badly missing him had hurt. "Tom?" she whispered, and for a moment she wasn't sure he heard her until the roaming kisses stopped and he was looking directly at her. "Don't ever leave me again."

"Never," he swore and she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him in again.

* * *

A while later they were both showered and had made their way out of the bathroom. Liz watched her husband saunter over to the bag they had with them, clad only in a towel around his waist, and he held out fresh clothes for her first. She smiled, feeling a sense of peace at the center of the storm around them, until Ressler's ringtone cut through the quiet of the room. She frowned and moved towards it, answering. "Everything okay with Agnes?"

" _Agnes is fine_ ," her partner promised, " _but she's with Cooper at the Post Office._ "

Liz's brows drew together. "I thought she was with you?"

" _We had a team tailing Schmitz and Townsend. They didn't check in_." A cold knot started to form in the pit of Liz's stomach at his tone. " _They're dead. All four of them_."

"No," Liz breathed and she could feel Tom's questioning gaze on her. "Any idea where they are now?"

" _Still in DC_."

That wasn't good. "When did they get to DC? What haven't you said?"

Ressler loosed a breath on the other side of the line. " _Liz, is there any reason why the Cabal would… need or want something from Tom_?"

Her gaze darted over to the man in question. He had gotten dressed while she was on the phone, head tilted curiously. "Yes," she managed.

" _Something having to do with his memories_?"

"Yes," she repeated, her voice somehow smaller than before. Then it struck her. She knew how Ressler had gotten there. "Selma."

" _They took her. Metro PD is on site and will transfer her to the Post Office for questioning._ " He stopped, and Liz could almost feel him cringing. " _Reddington knows. He's on his way and wants to fly you, Tom, and Howard back on his jet._ "

"Tell him to call me when he lands," Liz said and she thought she heard her partner heave a sigh of relief.

" _Watch your back, Keen. Both of you._ "

The call ended and she turned to look at Tom. "We have a problem."

* * *

Sometimes it was difficult to pinpoint just when his life had become the nonstop roller coaster that they all seemed to share these days. It had been normal once. Well, normalish. Top of his class at MIT, recruited by the NSA, and it wasn't like Aram hadn't seen some crazy cases working for them, but he was sure things hit a whole new level of strange sometime after Mr Cooper drafted him into the Task Force. Everything that had happened to him and around him since then had left him at least partially numb to the fresh batches of chaos. So why wouldn't this woman whose death certificate was at least twenty years old pop up stateside just to kidnap Selma Orchard, opening up a whole new set of questions about the Cabal potentially looking for Liz's not-really-dead husband who was missing large chunks of his memory? Just another night at the office.

Aram perked you as Ressler stepped out of his office from where he'd been talking to the Keens. "Was Agent Keen upset we told Mr Reddington?"

Ressler shook his head. "She gets it. We have an ETA on Park and Orchard's patient? Rebecca Abbasi."

"They should be here anytime now."

As if on cue the lift made a loud, terrible sound of old gears creaking and groaning as it brought its passengers down from ground level. Aram risked one more look back at his current project and jotted a quick note.

"Aram."

"Just a sec," he answered Ressler without looking up.

" _Aram_."

Aram's head finally jerked up at the tone of Ressler's voice and he was fairly sure his heart sputtered to a standstill in his chest. Rebecca Abbasi was the name that they'd been given for Orchard's patient that was being brought in, but there was no question that the woman standing with Park, dark eyes wide and fixed on him, was Samar Navabi.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : It's a little later than usual, but I wanted to make sure to do another read through this one before posting. A _lot_ happened and a lot is about to happen. I had a nice 10 or so chapter buffer before the move and I have definitely eaten through that, but as we get closer and closer to the end, I'm really excited to start dropping answers into this. Heaven know the Keens and team deserve a few answers. 

Also, anyone spot the Tom <3 Liz on the park bench blonde Katerina was sitting on in last week's episode (8.02)? Several people pointed it out and I'm still obsessed lol

For those that celebrate, I hope you had a happy and safe Thanksgiving yesterday!

**Next Time** : Nez Rowan goes on the warpath, Aram gets a chance to speak with Samar, and Liz asks Reddington for the truth on who he is to her.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nez Rowan goes on the warpath, Aram gets a chance to speak with Samar, and Liz asks Reddington for the truth on who he is to her.

There were moments - often late at night and after making a dent in a bottle of scotch - in which Scottie Hargrave felt the strange, disconnected sensation that left part of her mind wondering if there were even a remote chance that this had all been some terrible nightmare. If she would open her eyes and find herself curled up in her own bed with a four-year-old Christopher sleeping down the hall. No abduction, no suspicious and traitorous husband, and certainly no Cabal ready to call the dues she hadn't been willing to pay in quite some time. Just her and the family she's chosen.

Somehow, though, it never failed that she would open her eyes to find herself exactly where she had been when she had closed them. Right now, that was wedged between every difficult choice that could or has been made.

It hadn't taken her people long to discover that the car the Keens had rented out had been picked up by the two of them, Agnes left in the care of the Task Force. It wasn't ideal, but it could have been worse. They could have run, leaving everything and everyone behind, but the fact that they had left Agnes behind was proof that they hadn't. Liz had proven herself to be willing, but even with some of his memories still fractured, scattered, and incomplete, Scottie knew wouldn't. That little girl was his world, just as he had been hers. And if the Keens wouldn't run without Agnes, that meant that they were chasing down some piece of intelligence or another that they thought they had found, and maybe they had. Maybe she just needed to be patient.

That patience was hard-earned as she dove into anything she could uncover about Jonas Bauer while they were gone. A businessman that valued his privacy, even Scottie was having difficulty uncovering information on the name Solomon has given his life over. There were tidbits that anybody could find: a couple of properties in his name - including an office building in Bonn, Germany - a wife and children, and some more public donations that were likely to paint him as a philanthropist. There was more, a few layers down, including a summer home held under a shell corporation and a bank account with a sizable amount linked to the same. Interesting. Not immediately helpful, but with boots on the ground she thought it could easily lead to more. The problem was knowing which boots to put on the ground.

A knock on the door drew Scottie's attention from her computer monitor to where Nez Rowan stood. She looked tired, eyes rimmed red and a determined expression etched into the lines on her face. "Tell me we're going after these bastards."

"Close the door behind you," Scottie said by way of an answer and took a sip from her drink. She nodded to the small bar and watched as Nez took her up on the offer after closing the soundproof door.

"How's Tom?"

"Angry. Reddington is responsible for his missing memories."

"We'll add him to the list," Nez answered darkly and rounded the desk with her glass to take a look at what Scottie was researching. "Is that him?"

"It is."

"And that's all we have?"

"For now. Reddington knows more, but he won't say what."

"He's just winning all the points, isn't he?"

Scottie snorted softly and reached for her phone as it lit up. She frowned. "Howard was just released into federal custody."

"Has to be Tom, right? I take it Howard's betrayal is one of the things he's forgotten?"

"My guess is it was Elizabeth's mother pulling strings from the shadows. She's wanted Howard involved for a while."

"Any idea why?"

"She needs him for something. What is still one of our outstanding questions. He hates her." Dark eyes flickered up. "This is going to get messier than it is now. If you don't want to —"

"They killed Mattie."

"That's my point. He gave Cooper a name and was dead hours later."

Nez gave a small, hollow smile. "Then I guess we'll need to move fast so they don't see it coming."

Scottie studied her for a long moment, hating that she'd known who she wanted to send all along. Not that she would have been able to stop her if she tried. "Small team, low profile," she said, shoving a jumpdrive into the port on her laptop, copying the information she was researching.

Nez set her drink down to take the offered drive. "Is there any other way?"

The younger woman turned to leave and Scottie stood. "Nez."

"Yeah, boss?" she answered, her voice right.

"Watch yourself out there."

There was a long moment of silence before she gave a stiff nod and was gone, leaving Scottie alone with the hope she hadn't just sent yet another person to their death.

* * *

Samar Navabi stood in the center of their war room, her eyes fixed on Aram and her voice was soft. "I know you."

Aram stared back even as Park tilted her head in question. "What's happening here?"

No one answered as Samar stepped forward, her gaze locked on Aram. Confusion flickered across her expression, as if she were trying to work through something, and her lips twitched down at the corners. "I can't…. remember your name, but I know you," she said after a long moment.

"Aram," he answered.

Her brows drew together, stress working its way into the lines on her face. "I wasn't supposed to see you again. If they know, they'll —"

"It's okay. You're safe here," Aram promised, moving towards her. It had been so long since he'd dared to even dream about seeing her again. He'd tucked that longing away and shoved it deep down under the weight of his need to find a way to move on. To be without her for her own safety.

But there she was.

He reached out and Samar flinched back, but her tone turned accusatory as she whipped around to look at Park. "You said you were bringing me in because of what happened to Dr Orchard. Was this all some elaborate —?"

"No." It was Ressler's voice that cut her off this time. "She really was taken. If you were there with her, we need your help to get her back."

Samar's distrustful gaze flickered between the three federal agents as they waited for her response. Finally her posture eased a little and she nodded slowly. "They didn't see me, but I saw them."

"Good," Ressler answered. "Let's start there."

They led her into the interrogation room and Park remained inside with her, the lack of emotional connection between the two women the best chance they had at finding something they could use.

As Samar spoke on the other side of the one-way glass, Aram felt the knot in the pit of his stomach grow and tighten. She looked like his fiancée and spoke with her voice, but the longer she went on, the differences showed in the uncertain stutter around words she couldn't quite remember and the way she would fade off. Her sharp wit was dulled down and she looked more uncomfortable than Aram had ever seen her.

"What are the odds?" Ressler breathed as they listened to Samar struggle to explain who the people were that broke in and each step of what had happened. "The woman trying to help Tom get his memories back is the same one trying to help Samar."

"It's different," Aram murmured. "Tom's memories were just buried. Samar…. from what she said, once it's lost, it's gone."

"It's not exactly a well documented science. Maybe Orchard was finding a way."

Aram snorted a soft, mirthless chuckle. They really were living in strange days if Ressler was their optimist. "We put her in danger bringing her here like this."

"We'll keep her safe." There was a beat of silence before, "Aram?" Ressler was looking directly at him when Aram turned. "She's one of ours. We won't let them hurt her."

He nodded slowly and focused back in on Samar's voice, hoping to find a way to believe the words.

* * *

They had gotten very little sleep when the alarm went off that morning. Liz had been on the phone updating the transport arrangements for Howard, and even after she had finally laid down to try to claim a little sleep all she had done was toss and turn. Tom had inched closer at one point, pulling her back against him and trying to ease some of the anxious energy away, but it hadn't done a lot of good. In the end, they both were awake when the alarm started to buzz, making Tom want to find the nearest window to chunk it out of. When this was over, he was just looking forward to sleeping again.

They picked Howard up the next morning and he seemed even more on edge than he had been the day before. His blue eyes darted and he fidgeted while he and Tom waited for Liz to sign the last transport paperwork.

"Something happened."

Tom cracked an eye open from where he was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed and waiting. "Is there a question in there somewhere?"

Howard huffed at the response. "What?"

"Later."

"You want me to trust you then you need to —"

"Later," Tom snapped. He didn't have the time or energy to convince Howard to keep his trap shut until they got him out. Schmitz had known exactly where to go and had easily overtaken the federal agents that had been tailing her and Townsend. She likely had contacts inside of the Bureau and possibly the military as well. They needed to get Howard out and onto the plane before anything else went sideways.

"You ready to go?" Liz asked, drawing both of their attentions to where she stood with release documents in one hand and the key to Howard's ankle monitor in the other. That was the stipulation that she'd been worried they wouldn't budge on, but what she had said to make it happen was a story that would need to wait until later.

Howard lifted his pants leg to give her access to the monitor. "Very."

Monitor disengaged, it was a relatively quick trip out of the facility and to the car. It took a bit longer to take the roundabout way out to a private airfield where Reddington's jet was waiting. The man himself exited as they pulled up.

"Do you know the name Emilia Schmitz?" Liz asked as she removed the keys from the rental that someone would need to come out and pick up.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Howard answered.

"She's a lead Cabal operative. She kidnapped the woman that was helping Tom recover his memories."

"So this is all coming to a head?" Howard asked softly.

"It has to," Tom said firmly and stepped out of the passenger seat. He saw Reddington making his way towards them and steeled himself. He could hate the man - he didn't think he could stop himself from hating the man - but he also had to find a way to work with him. Howard was right: this was all coming to head, and Tom couldn't find a likely scenario in which Reddington wasn't a key player. They had to face this threat together or risk losing entirely.

* * *

She had barely said more than a handful of clipped words to him since they had arrived, but Reddington kept catching Elizabeth's side looks every time she thought he wasn't paying attention. They were quick and calculating, and he wondered just which part of this she was weighing silently. It had been the Task Force that had given him the location - even if it had also been the Task Force that had warned her to take the trip in the first place - to bring all three of them in safely. That was, he reminded himself, the end goal: to keep Elizabeth - and, by extension, her family - safe. At least someone had had the wherewithal to understand that he was not the enemy in this. Not hers, at any rate.

Of all people, it had been Tom that filled him in on how they had gotten to Howard. "But you already knew where he was, didn't you?" he asked tightly, the look he was giving Reddington in that moment reminding the older man too much of Howard's more frustrating attributes. Distrust that bordered on paranoia and a dangerously sharp mind that could easily find an angle to slip through to get to information that should remain secret. He'd done it with the bones and if Red wasn't careful, he'd continue doing it.

"I did," the Concierge of Crime answered carefully.

"Because you know him."

Red tilted his head, studying Elizabeth's husband as the engines roared outside of the aircraft. "I did, but you knew that, even if you don't remember that you do."

Tom drew in a breath, leaning back in the seat that faced Reddington. "All of you know each other."

"Yes."

"You gonna tell us how? Why?"

"You sound as if you have your own theories, Tom."

"You first."

Reddington weighed his options, glancing out of the corner of his eye where Elizabeth was scrolling through a case file on a tablet. "I know that you both believe you have a right to know —"

"We do. After everything this war of yours has cost us, we do."

Reddington quirked one blond eyebrow. "It wouldn't have cost you anything if you'd stayed out of it." He leaned forward, his voice hushed. "Instead your questions brought Ian Garvey in, which in turn signaled an entire branch of an organization that would have otherwise let sleeping dogs lie. Your curiosity into matters that had nothing to do with you not only put Elizabeth in the dangers she faced when Garvey came after you, but also put her in a bullseye of what his superiors' superiors will do now that they are here."

"Because she's your daughter."

The words cut and Red froze in place, finding it difficult to drag air into his lungs as he weighed the likelihood that Tom didn't remember the details he'd discovered about the bones against the possibility that he - and likely Elizabeth as well - had discovered some new piece of information.

From the answer he offered, the latter seemed more likely. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Confirming it." He tilted his head. "I'm curious though: the bones. The DNA belonged to Raymond Reddington. So either you planted that or you settled into that persona a long time ago."

Reddington kept his expression carefully schooled, determined not to give anything away. Tom had always been a talented operative, but clearly any skills that had been dulled during his years playing house had been resharpened to a fine and dangerous point.

"We're going to figure it out," Tom warned as he stood. "It's better coming from you."

He moved towards Elizabeth and Reddington watched him take a seat next to her on the bench, the two speaking too quietly to make out what they were saying. Neither looked over at him.

"He's got a point."

Reddington looked up to see Howard Hargrave standing at the back of his chair and the missing piece of the puzzle - the new tidbit of information they had discovered - fit into place. He motioned for Howard to take the seat his son had just vacated. As he did, Red sized him up. There was more life in those eyes now, more purpose. This had to be played carefully. Howard was a fantastic ally when he chose to be one. None of them could afford to have him as an enemy.

Even so….. Reddington tilted his head, his voice quiet. "It wasn't your secret to tell."

Howard waved the statement off. "She deserved to know." He settled back, his gaze drifting past Red. "They're not children anymore and treating them as such has only alienated them and put them in more danger than we can fight alone."

"You sound like your wife."

Howard snorted. "A broken clock and all of that," he huffed and caught Reddington's gaze. "I can't lose him again, Red. Can you lose her?"

The other man cringed, feeling the knot that never seemed to fully disappear these days tighten in his chest. "And if losing her saves her?"

Howard chuckled, that old twinkle in his eye familiar. "You and I both know it's gone too far for that. That girl -" he nodded back towards Elizabeth - "is too much of you. You couldn't cut her loose if you tried."

Red watched his old friend settle back, the words hanging between them and, as the plane barrelled towards DC, he knew they were true.

* * *

She hadn't known what to expect when Tom said that he had taken a gamble by telling Reddington what Howard had told her the day before. He hadn't admitted it outright, of course, but Tom was convinced it was true after speaking with him. "The silence is his tell," her husband had told her, his words echoing ones from years before she didn't even know if he remembered. Liz hadn't been able to dwell on them too long, though, as they touched down on the runway and Ressler had met them with news they hadn't felt comfortable sharing over the phone.

Samar Navabi was Selma Orchard's patient who had witnessed the kidnapping.

Unless Red had picked up the habit of blatantly lying to her - something that, even as angry with him as she was, she found difficult to believe - he hadn't known Samar had any link to Selma. He had provided her with a new identity, but had respected her overall request for privacy. It was as much of a surprise to him as for the rest of them.

One more twist. One more tangle to trip over. Liz hated that she couldn't even find it in herself to be happy to see her friend. Instead of excitement, she found herself calculating how the new complication could affect their outcome and she hated it.

"Elizabeth."

Reddington's voice pulled her out of her thoughts as they moved through the parking garage towards the lift and Tom's steps paused half a beat after hers. He shot her a look and she reached forward, her fingers ghosting over his. "Tell Agnes I'm right behind you?"

Tom glanced past her at Reddington, his expression darkening as if in warning, but pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before following Ressler and his father down to the War Room. Liz turned back to find Reddington watching her and in that moment she thought she saw a few cracks in that confident mask he wore so well. She studied him, watching every move, every micro expression. Each small twitch told her the same thing: he was afraid.

He pulled in a breath. "I understand that you are…. frustrated with what you feel are answers owed to you."

And there it was. Like every time before he was burying his fear under a steadfast belief that he was right and that she should blindly trust in that. Liz shook her head. "If that's all this is, I don't have time," she snapped and turned, but he caught her wrist as she did, instantly releasing it when she paused.

Reddington started, then stopped, struggling and fighting with himself. Finally he squeezed his eyes closed. "I thought I could protect you. We thought…" He shook his head. "Perhaps Kate was right. Perhaps I should have stayed away."

"A little late for that."

He snorted, the sound devoid of any amusement. "I thought I could control it. That I could…. protect you from enemies from all sides, but in preparing you for the worst you are consistently moved into the cross-hairs."

"I'm here now, and there's no going back on that," Liz answered firmly. "You can help protect me by telling me what we're really up against. Why…" She pushed a long breath out as his words from years before rang in her mind. "Why does knowing my father's identity put me in danger?"

There was a long stretch of silence as he seemed to consider her question. "Because knowing who he was once, even whispering the name, will bring enemies more dangerous than the ones we're facing to the board. One, in particular."

She felt her anger collapse into desperation. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I don't care who you _were_. I care who you _are_. And I just want the truth: are you my father?"

"If I answer your question, will you trust me?"

"Not blindly, but it'll be a step in the right direction."

She knew the admission might destroy the choice he was balanced on, but it was the truth. If she was asking for it, she needed to give it.

"Yes," Reddington breathed out, the word so quiet she almost couldn't hear it. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Yes."

"I want to hear you say it. Fully, with no room for misunderstandings or misdirects."

Reddington looked struck by that, but swallowed hard. "I… Yes. Many years ago and far more briefly than I would have preferred. To your question…. Yes."

"Why did you tell me you weren't? Why did you lie to me?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't a lie. I gave up the right to claim you so long ago because I couldn't…. Do what needed to be done and be the father you needed. That you deserved."

Liz nodded, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She took a step forward and, before she gave herself permission, she flung her arms around his neck in a hug. Slowly, hesitantly, she felt him return it. They stood there for a long moment just holding on. She had been in this long enough to know that there would be more, but for now, just for a moment, she wanted to hold onto the answer she had waited on for so long.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : If you like being showered with answers to all the questions posed in this story, you're really going to enjoy the final chapters of Love Me Twice. Like Howard said: it's all coming to head. >;)

  
 **Next time** : Nez arrives in Germany, Aram and Samar have a chance to talk, and the team races to rescue Dr Orchard.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nez arrives in Germany, Aram and Samar have a chance to talk, and the team races to rescue Dr Orchard.

The guard offered a brief, familiar nod to Tom as he led his father down to the black site. There was more familiarity in the groaning of the lift and the shadowy space they were emptied out into, but he wasn't sure if it was the all the time he'd spent there recently or his memories seeping back in. Either way, a strange sense of relief washed over him as they started towards the War Room and the awaiting Task Force.

"Daddy!" Agnes' squealing voice broke him out of his thoughts as the little girl raced towards him, launching herself into his arms. He caught her mid-leap and spun around once, holding her at eye-level.

"Hey."

She giggled and leaned forward, pecking a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Hey!"

"Are you halfway to becoming a fed like your mom? Do we need to get you a badge?"

"No one's an agent quite like her mom," Ressler offered as he moved forward to join them. His gaze swept Howard up and down, sizing him up, before shifting back to Tom. "Where is Keen?"

"Chatting with Reddington."

Ressler quirked an eyebrow at that. "Should we be worried?"

Before he could offer his flippant response, Agnes tapped his shoulder. "Daddy, who's that?" She pointed around Howard.

"I'm your dad's dad," the older man answered without missing a beat and Tom shot him a glare.

Agnes tilted her head and narrowed her dark blue eyes at him from her own father's arm's. "Uh-huh."

The three men paused, unsure of how to respond to that, but finally Ressler cleared his throat. "Cooper wanted to speak with you," he told Howard plainly. "You remember the office?"

"Up the stairs over there?"

"Without getting lost in between," Ressler pressed and Howard offered a slow, subtle smile to Tom.

"Looks like I'm off to the principal's office."

"Don't give him too much trouble," Tom warned as Agnes started to squirm free of his hold and made her way back to the desk she'd been seated at when he'd arrived. Tom watched her as she moved without a word - more self sufficient than he thought a kid her age would have been - and finally turned back to Ressler. "Liz said an old teammate was a patient of Orchard's?"

"Samar Navabi. Remember her?"

The name struck a chord, but he couldn't pull a mental image to go along with it. He shook his head. "Not really. Who is she?"

"Aram's ex-fiance," Ressler answered, glancing back to the techie at his desk, nose buried so deeply in his work that Tom would have thought he was trying to avoid something even if the ex hadn't been mentioned.

"Did someone screw with her memories too?"

"Injury."

Tom grimaced, his mind coming up with half a dozen injuries that could have caused enough damage to have brought Dr Orchard in to help the woman, and none of them were good. "Has she been any help finding the good doctor?"

"Yeah. She was able to provide our sketch artist with a pretty detailed description and was even able to recall a partial license plate with some of the techniques that Orchard had been teaching her. We'll get her." The ginger agent did a quick glance around the War Room. "Any idea what they could be looking for with her? What they think she uncovered with you?"

"Katarina seems to think there's something there, but Orchard didn't find it if there is."

"Something like what?"

Tom shoved hard at the immediate reaction to buckle down on the scattered pieces of intel that they'd uncovered. Ressler was an ally. No. He was a friend. He'd proven that much. "I don't know for sure. The beach… when I was a kid. With Liz, from what she was saying."

"You two knew each other as kids?" Ressler managed.

"Is that new?"

"Yeah."

The taller man offered as casual of a shrug as he could manage. "Not sure exactly what she was after, but it sounded like Scottie might have hidden something with me. The two of them seem chummy enough. Not sure why they wouldn't just share." The lift sounded loudly and they both looked towards it.

"Your mom's on her way, so you can ask her when she gets here," Ressler offered. "Not that she seems to tell anything she doesn't want to tell."

"Howard."

"Say what?"

The door opened, emptying Liz and Reddington into the Post Office. Liz offered them a strained smile and Tom returned her look with a grimace of her own before turning back to Ressler. "From what I can tell those two don't want to be anywhere near each other."

"You're hoping to light a powder keg?"

Tom's lips twitched up at the corners. "That's the plan." He started forward towards Liz, leaving her partner behind at the desks.

* * *

Nez had wasted no time setting up her flight to Germany on one of Halcyon's less conspicuous jets and discreetly scheduling a meeting with a field operative that would meet her once she landed in Bonn. His name was Hans Roth and Scottie had been personally involved in his recruitment and cultivation, first as an asset and then as an agent. She and Solomon had worked with him on a couple of missions over the years, and while he didn't know the details of what this op now meant to her, he did know that it was top priority and had been given instructions to find out what he could without being spotted prior to her arrival.

She moved through the streets easily enough, her expression neutral even if she felt coiled and ready for any fight that came her way. She needed it. The feeling of cartilage giving to her knuckles or a bone snapping with just the right kick. Anything to take her mind off of the man she thought couldn't die. Hell, wouldn't die. He'd been stubborn enough, or at least she thought he was. Everyone had their limit though, and that's all she could hold onto when it came to this. Jonas Bauer - whoever he was - had a limit, and she was going to crush him under it.

Roth was waiting at the small coffee shop across from the highrise building where Bauer kept his offices. He offered a friendly wave as Nez approached, standing to greet her with a friendly smile and a quick kiss to the cheek as he murmured, "I heard about Solomon," in her ear. Okay. So he did know the full stakes of this op.

Nez held the ruse of a friend meeting another for a cup of coffee and sat down, speaking in flawless German. "Have you been here long?"

"A bit," he answered, his pale green eyes flickering to the building. "Not long enough for anything exciting to happen."

He hadn't seen him. Hadn't seen anything of consequence. While not surprising, she'd hoped for a quick break.

Roth re-took his seat and Nez let her gaze sweep the thin, mid-morning crowd. Finally, she took the seat across from him and took the menu that he pushed across the table to her. A folded slip of paper was tucked away inside. Nimble fingers worked easily to open it and she found a set of phone numbers. Good. At least she had something to start with. "Did you happen to catch anything?"

"No audio yet," Roth answered quietly so that only she could hear, "but I'm working on getting you connected to the second one in."

Connected. Possibly a meeting, but more likely a phone tap since he'd provided the numbers. He had to be careful what he said. When this was done, she'd be on a plane back to the US. His op would still be in Germany.

Movement caught her eye and she glanced towards a newcomer. Tall, dark, and familiar. She knew that man. "Give me a minute," she told Roth and stood again, making her way over. Pale eyes locked with dark and she held the tall man's gaze all the way to the table he'd been given. "It's been a while," she said in English.

Dembe Zuma - Reddington's most loyal man - tilted his chin up just a little. "I take it you're here for the same reason I am."

"The mocha is worth the nearly four thousand mile trip."

"I do not want to work against you."

"That'd be counterproductive, but I've never known your boss to be the sharing type."

"Nor yours."

"More so than yours." She leaned forward, studying him. Roth was good, but limited to setting her up and linking her to access. At one thing told her she would get further and faster with Dembe. "Neither of them are here though, and they want answers more than anything."

"What are you proposing?"

Nez's lips quirked up at the corners as a plan started to form in her mind. She knew what needed to be done.

* * *

She could picture him. Tall. Heavyset. Bald with a scruffy beard. He'd worn dark jeans and a leather jacket. Boots too. Scaly. Some sort of reptile, maybe? She could see it and somewhere in her mind she knew what her memory was pulling up, but the words had jumbled as soon as she had tried to tell the artist. She stumbled through the explanation. It should have been quick, but instead it took them hours to get it right, and by the end of it all she wanted to take his pencil and paper and throw it across the room.

Dr Orchard would have known how to call the words to mind. She could have helped her brain work the way it was supposed to, but she was gone, and it was everything Samar could do to try to help the woman that had helped her. Her head was aching and she leaned forward against the cold, metal table, resting her forehead there as she waited for someone to come back in. It wasn't like she didn't remember anything from the life she'd lived before her accident. She knew time was critical in getting Selma Orchard back alive and unharmed. Time that she'd cost them.

The door to the room opened, startling Samar and she jerked upright. The man she'd seen when she first entered stood there and she found herself staring at him. She knew him deep down in the way she knew her name or that she needed to draw air into her lungs. Aram. His name was Aram, and he was staring at her like he hadn't really meant to open that door.

"They couldn't possibly have found anything yet," she ventured.

"No."

"So this is personal?"

"Yeah."

She pulled a breath in through her nose, counted to four, and pushed it back out with the same count, trying to steady her mind. "If you have a question…"

"You said you remember me."

"I think I said that I know you," she answered evenly, finally allowing her eyes to open and meet his. She felt flickers of memories teasing at the edges of her mind. Feelings, really, more than anything concrete, but she was almost certain his was the face that matched the man she couldn't quite recall. She'd dreamt about him, spoken to Orchard about him. He was the one she wanted to remember, but now that she sat in the same room as him, she couldn't help feeling like he was watching her with hesitation. That whatever memory that she felt like she was teetering on the edge of was different than what he knew. She hated that. "Who was I to you?"

"We were engaged," Aram answered softly, pain woven into his words. "I asked you to marry me and then…. you started having trouble. You left without me."

"I was trying to protect you." The words escaped her before she ever gave them permission to and she wasn't sure that they were right until she saw the guilt etched into his face.

"I know. And I didn't chase after you because I was trying to protect you."

There was more pain in his tone than she could have ever expected and she found herself standing, never quite willing to break eye contact. She opened her mouth, emotions surging without words that could quantify them, and she took a step towards him. Finally, she found something. "Dr Orchard told me that having an…. anchor would help."

"Anchor?" he asked, tilting his head in question, but the rest of him was rigid as if he were afraid she'd move closer.

"Something - someone - from my past to hold onto. I had this contact… I couldn't even remember where she came from, just that I knew I could trust her and she was absolute in that I couldn't reach out to anyone from my past. That doing so would put them in danger." His gaze was locked on hers now and her words tumbled out, and she couldn't have stopped them if she tried. "I had these dreams…. A man without a face. I trusted him. I….. loved him, but he was always just out of reach."

"Samar," Aram breathed and he took a step further into the room.

"I think I wanted you to be safe," she confessed.

He looked like the words had physically struck him and he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed before forcing them back open. "I don't care. Since you've been gone I've been…. lost. I tried. I tried to move on. I threatened Mr Reddington. I thought I could make him take me to you, but he made it clear I was only going to put you in more danger. That I'd be your…." He stopped, and she thought he saw the beginning of tears in his eyes. "That I'd be the weak link. I couldn't do that, so I tried to move on and was…. a disaster."

Part of her wanted to smile at that, but something stopped her. "Why?"

"Because she wasn't you," he whispered after a long moment. "But I'm not sure that you're you anymore either."

The words struck like a knife and Samar stared at him, not looking away even as someone approached from behind. The young FBI agent stopped, his expression anxious and his tone matching that. "Agent Mojtabai? We had a hit on a traffic cam that matches Dr Orchard. They need you in the War Room."

Aram looked at the young agent for a moment that felt longer than it actually was before turning to Samar.

"Let me know if I can help," she offered, something in her hating that it was all she thought she could offer.

He nodded, though, and darted down the hall to leave her alone with her raging thoughts.

* * *

Once Selma had been caught on a traffic cam, everything started to fall into place. She had been taken in DC - one of the few things they had known - and, as best as they could piece together, smuggled out to a private airport where they had likely taken a small aircraft without a filed flight plan. They turned up along Route 55 in New Jersey and the alert had been triggered. Now Aram was on the phone working to coordinate local law enforcement and Park was on another line getting them access to quick travel. That left Liz and Ressler leaned over a digital map, tracing possible routes that they would take and where they might be heading.

"They could be about to load her on a boat to ship her overseas," Liz murmured, finger hovering over and down the different highways they had access to.

"They'd be heading north, not south," Ressler countered.

"If they were going straight to a cargo ship, sure, but they could be hopping on a private boat that can make it across the ocean or taking a smaller one up the coast just out of our jurisdiction."

"You think they're heading to the coast?"

"Don't you?"

She watched Ressler's brows knit together, as he looked at all the angles, but it was Tom's voice behind them that drew Liz's attention. "I'm going with you."

Ressler frowned. "No way, pal. You're not an agent, you're not on the case."

"Is that where we're drawing the line now?"

"It is when we have to coordinate with local law enforcement. You're kind of hard to explain."

Tom studied him for half a beat before turning towards her. "Liz -"

"He's right," she cut him off. "We have the rescue party covered. You'll do more good here."

"Agnes is fine while we -"

"I know she is, but I meant Howard and Scottie and…. all of that." He looked like a deer in the headlight with that one and thankfully Ressler muttered a soft _meet you in the garage_ before scurrying off to give them a private moment. They didn't have long and she needed to find a way to express what she wanted - _needed_ \- him to understand. "Tom…"

"I don't know what I don't remember," he confessed softly, his gaze fixed on his boots.

Liz reached forward, her fingers against the side of his face and he leaned into her touch. "You didn't know with them before, but you knew that they were trying to pull one over on us. Trust yourself. I do."

He looked up at that, the barest of smiles touching his lips. "You have a lot of faith in me."

"Hard earned."

"Yeah?"

Her own lips tilted up and she tipped up on her toes, eyes drifting closed as he bent to meet her in the middle, the kiss soft and reassuring. She hated leaving him like this, but he knew more than he gave himself credit for. What he didn't have solid memories to back up, he had instincts, and those instincts had always been good.

"I still think I should go with you," he whispered as they broke.

"I'll be back before you know it."

"Promise?"

"Promise." She pressed another quick kiss into place before turning. She had a job to do. They both did.

* * *

She preferred meeting on her own terms, in her own buildings, and with her own protocols in place, but there hadn't been any leeway in the so-called request that had come through that led Scottie Hargrave to the underground bunker that her daughter-in-law referred to as the Post Office. With everything that had happened, she shouldn't be surprised that she was being summoned in that way. She could only be thankful that Tom's presence had been confirmed.

Dark eyes blinked against the sun as she stepped out of her personal car and caught sight of familiar red hair just ahead of her. Katarina was looking the building up and down, nose crinkled and head tilted. Scottie didn't attempt to quiet her steps as she came to stand beside her.

"Not as showy as yours," Katarina mused.

Scottie shrugged. "Government budget."

She heard Katarina make a small sound of disgust as she started past her to an exterior door. She pushed her way through it and was instantly met by an armed guard in uniform. She flashed her credentials and motioned back to the woman she had entered with. "She's with me."

"ID?" he guard prompted and Katarina looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"It's fine," Scottie answered and the two women moved in lockstep to the lift as if they were both supposed to be there. They were, she'd wager, even if Katarina had likely received the address from Reddington rather than from Cooper. The feds would be prickly about it, but they really should learn which battles to fight. Trying to keep their secret base secret from Katarina Rostova was a losing battle that only they would even wage war on.

The lift doors didn't open and Scottie turned an irritable look back at the man. "I'm not let anyone into that base without proper authority."

Katarina made a move towards him and Scottie reached out, catching her by the wrist and stopping her before she decided to handle the situation by her own methods. With her free hand, Scottie dialed her cell and held it up to her ear. It rang once, twice, and then on the third time she heard a voice on the other end, the surprise only making it through if you knew what to listen for. " _Cooper_."

"Harold," Scottie all but purred. "Be a dear and let us in."

" _Us_?"

"Who do you think? You already have my husband down there. How many were you expecting to this little get-together?"

She heard what she thought was a sigh from the other end of the line before Cooper told her to hand the phone over to the guard. She did with a smile that covered the aggravation she was feeling and he let them in. The doors closed before she risked a look over at Katarina and found those pale eyes focused intently on her. "Have you spoken to them?"

"No."

"Do you know where they are?"

"Well, someone had to fetch Howard out of custody, so…."

Katarina's eyes lit at that. "That's what Raymond left out."

"Like Howard, Reddington leaves out as much as he thinks he can get away with." The old lift squealed to a stop at the bottom level and the doors somehow managed to open, though they sounded like they might freeze where they were through the entire process. Scottie resisted the urge to sigh, but instead steeled her expression as she strode into what felt like the lion's den.

Harold Cooper was speaking sternly to an unphased Reddington while Aram Mojtabai and Tom bent over the agent's desk, intent on something there. Howard stood to the side, quietly watching everything around them as Agnes coloured on the opposite side of the desk.

The little girl looked up, her smile bright as she launched herself off her stool and towards Scottie. "Did you bring me ice cream?"

Scottie felt the corners of her lips twitch up on their own at the question. "I didn't know you would be here, so I didn't know to bring it. Next time."

Agnes took her by the hand, pulling her towards a crowd with several faces conspicuously missing. She ignored Katarina, who Scottie could feel watching from behind. "Mommy and Uncle Donnie and Ms Park are catching bad guys."

"Are they?" Dark eyes flickered to Tom. "Have you been a big help to your daddy here?"

"Uh-huh."

Howard stood and crossed to where their son was, speaking quietly with him even as Agnes pulled Scottie over. He looked up conspiratorially and Tom just looked irritated. "Take that up with her," he snapped.

Scottie quirked an eyebrow as Howard turned towards her and then behind her where Katarina lingered. "Here to finish the job, Scottie?"

"If you mean to help protect our son, yes," she answered coolly.

"The time to protect him was when he was a child, but instead you put a bullseye on his back. Him _and_ Liz." His gaze flickered behind her.

"Oh, Howard, I'd heard your mind was deteriorating, but I had no idea it had gone that far," Katarina chirped from behind her and Scottie didn't miss the quick look he shot his mother-in-law. "Such a shame."

Howard straightened, his expression darkening. "You used them. You both did! They were children and you used them to move your secrets and hide away your plans. What did you _think_ would happen, Scottie? You knew them. You knew what they were capable of, but you did it anyway. You used him to —"

"Enough," Scottie snapped. "We're here to help end this. To protect our children and their child, not to rehash all of your conspiracy theories that put you away in the first place. I'm not the enemy here, Howard."

"You're certainly not an ally," he answered, but a notification chimes loudly, drawing everyone's attention.

Aram Mojtabai reaches over to his laptop to scroll through it. "We have them."

"Where?" Cooper demanded, breaking away from Reddington.

"A call came in. Looks like a woman meeting Dr Orchard's description was spotted down along the coast in South East New Jersey. A man with her fits the sketch of the guy Samar saw as well."

Scottie felt a chill run up her spine. "Where, exactly?"

"Uhh…. looks like…. Cape May, New Jersey."

Likely no one missed the look Reddington and Katarina shared. It was a trap. They both knew it was a trap. They weren't the only ones.

"Call Elizabeth," Reddington commanded and Katarina moved over to him, speaking quickly and quietly.

The line rang loudly in the tense room and Scottie risked a look at her son. He was watching the large screen with a map marked where the call had come in from, his focus absolute until Agnes tugged on his hand. Without missing a beat he leaned down and scooped his daughter up, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and whispering something. She folded over his shoulder with her arms around his neck as the line connected.

" _Ressler_."

"Are you on location?" Cooper asked.

" _On our way. ETA is about twenty minutes. Local PD and HRT will meet us on site_ ," Ressler answered.

Reddington took a step forward. "Donald? You need to get Elizabeth out of there."

" _What's going on_?" Liz's voice filtered through what was clearly a phone on speaker.

"Schmitz is luring you there."

"We have traffic cam footage time to confirm the call," Aram offered from his seat, glancing between Reddington and Harold Cooper. "Dr Orchard is there."

"Bait for the trap," Katarina said tightly.

" _Care to expand on that? Anyone_?" Elizabeth growled, her frustration worked into every syllable.

Movement caught her attention from the corner of Scottie's eye as Howard shifted and she shot him a warning look. "What? Are you still so caught up on your secrets you'll risk her life for it?" he demanded and turned to Reddington and Katarina. "You, I believe," he directed at the red headed double agent, "but Red…. you took her away to protect her once. Tell her what her mother and Scottie did to her. What they're really after."

Reddington cringed at that. "Elizabeth, if you go in, they will take you. The answers that they want - that they've killed for - lie with you."

Silence met them for a long moment before Elizabeth answered. " _They have killed, and they will again unless we help her. Selma got caught up in this because I asked her to help. I won't leave her there_."

Reddington turned to Cooper. "Harold, you _must_ call this off."

All eyes turned on the assistant director for his answer, but it didn't have time to tumble off his lips. From the other end of the line came shouting, squealing tires, and a deafening crash.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : One of the funny things about writing on your phone is that you don't always realize just how long the chapters get, especially if you edit on your phone too. :P

 **Next Time** : Liz, Ressler, and Park land themselves in trouble while the others look for the missing answer in Tom's childhood memories.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz, Ressler, and Park land themselves in trouble while the others look for the missing answer in Tom's childhood memories.

They had brought Howard Hargrave in in hopes that he would stir things up, and from the frustrated voices on the other end of the line it sounded like he had. It just wasn't to the effect that the Keens had hoped for. Everyone held tight to their secrets and hoped for the best as the rest of them jumped into the mess with half the facts, if they were lucky. Ressler didn't have to wonder why Liz was fed up with it, or even why she'd slipped away looking for answers on Ilya Koslov and then by going to Howard. She was never going to get a straight answer from Reddington or the rest of them. That was the only truth she should rely on, not that she would. No, he would keep giving her pieces of information to string her along until one or both or all of them got killed. Maybe that was the truest sense of insanity.

If it was, he was right there with her, because it wasn't like Ressler could just walk away at this point. He had been all in for a long time now.

He glanced at the radio from his spot in the driver's seat of the federally issued SUV, the phone call filtering through the Bluetooth so that he and Liz could both hear. Lucky for Park, she was right behind them in their two-car line with another couple of agents and their gear. Ressler shot the speakers a withering look when Reddington all but commanded Cooper to put a stop to them going in. He wouldn't. He couldn't. This was the job, and if Liz was in danger they would be there to watch her back. That's what they did. After everything, they were more family than partners.

Ressler didn't see the vehicle that broadsided them. They were driving one moment and rolling the next. He felt the impact in his shoulder - still a little sore from where it had been pulled out of socket while fighting for the intel - and then must have hit his head, because the next thing he knew he was hanging upside down from his seatbelt.

"Ress? Ressler? You okay?"

That was Liz's voice. That much he could piece together.

"Hey." He felt something - a hand, he thought - slapping at him. "Open your eyes. They're coming. Hey!" The last word was punctuated with a balled fist to his arm and his eyes popped open.

"What the —"

"I'm stuck. Can you reach your gun?"

He cringed, everything aching as he strained for it. He needed to get loose. They both did. It's be like shooting fish in a barrel where they were.

Ressler wiggled just right and got his fingers around his firearm. He pulled it free, aimed at the approaching boots, and fired. The approaching figure howled and danced out of his line of site as Liz finally worked her seatbelt loose. She landed hard against the roof of the SUV and took hold of her own weapon, shooting at the cracked glass on her door. It shattered and she shot Resler a look. "Go," he barked, taking another awkward shot out of his own window again before scurrying to follow.

Liz was already using the overturned vehicle as a barricade when he pulled himself halfway out, but a bullet striking too close for comfort made him duck back for cover.

"Drop it! Do it now!" someone shouted from the side of the vehicle he thought was covered. They didn't seem to be yelling at him, but as they drew closer he took a shot, the bullet ripping through the man's leg and sending him crashing to the ground. He took aim to take him out, but a voice from the other window stopped him.

"One move and you're dead. Slide the gun out and back out of the car."

Ressler risked a look behind him even as he heard Liz fighting and reluctantly did as he was told, backing out over shattered glass that littered the roof of the car. Once he was out, he straightened to see them shoving Liz in a van. His captor leveled his gun, a dangerous smirk tilting his lips.

"What, just wanted to look me in the eye?" Ressler popped off.

"I wanted you to see you've already lost," the man answered.

A shot rang out, but instead of pain and darkness, Ressler watched the man that had been ready to kill him crumble to the ground.

The others must have seen it too, because almost simultaneously the van door slammed shut and the tires squealed. Ressler jerked around to see a blood-covered Park, gun aimed at the retreating van, but she couldn't stop it. He loosed a curse out on a breath. "You got your phone? Where are the others?" he called as he started towards her.

"Dead. And your welcome," she huffed, leaning against the SUV she had been in.

"Are you hit?"

"Yeah. Phone's in there." She motioned vaguely at the vehicle.

Ressler circled it to grab the phone and start dialing. They needed medical and they needed to try to catch up to the van before they ditched it. He risked a glance at Park as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Thank you."

She snorted, her lips twitching up lopsidedly before she sank down to the ground.

* * *

It was everything he could do to keep a calm exterior as he promised Agnes that everything was going to be okay and the grownups just needed to talk. She didn't want to go with Agent Markum. She wanted to stay with him. It didn't seem like that long ago that the tears and the begging wouldn't have phased him, but as he pressed a kiss to his daughter's dark hair and sent her away, it broke Tom's heart.

Granted, the heartbreak was almost immediately replaced with terror and rage when the news came through that Liz had been taken.

"She never should have been there," Reddington growled and Tom shoved hard at the urge to deck him again.

"Cut the bullshit, Reddington. All of you." All eyes tired on Tom and he met each of them as he spoke. "Your secrets - all of your secrets - are what got us here. Howard said Scottie and Katarina used us. How?" Silence met him. "Floor's open, but one of you sure as hell better start talking."

"The Archive," Scottie said quietly, receiving a look from Katarina, but the other woman didn't try to stop her. "We were… tasked to find a way to keep it safe for the Cabal."

Howard looked vindicated at the words, but miraculously kept his mouth shut as Cooper asked, "What is in the Archive?"

"A collection of information," Katarina chimed in. "There was a database set up by what you call the Cabal. Since the organization was made up of intelligence officers from all over the globe, they syphoned information from governments and pooled resources. Files were brought in from all the major world players, but there were also files stored on the Cabal itself. Operatives, leadership. They had to have a way to protect it. They brought Scottie and I in."

"I knew it," Howard huffed. "You married me for the intelligence you could have gotten from Halcyon."

"You and Scottie can handle your marital squabbles when Elizabeth's life doesn't hang in the balance," Reddington said tightly.

"What does this have to do with Liz and me?" Tom asked, hoping to redirect the conversation. He looked to Katarina first, but nothing in her carefully curated expression instilled any sort of trust. He turned to his mother and found a much more open, pain filled expression that tore at the edges of his memories.

"They knew Katarina was over the project," Scottie answered, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "The moment that remote access was shut off - when she took the Archive - they would look at her, and if they looked at her, they'd look at me. We couldn't know where it was hidden. We couldn't even know full pieces. We had to hide them away somewhere safe."

"Us," Tom breathes, feeling like someone had just kicked him in the gut. "But how? If you both had pieces… someone must have had the final one to know how to access it. Someone must have hidden it with us."

"Brigitte," Katarina said. "Another double, another so-called trusted ally."

"For you or her?" Aram asked to the side, his tone accusing.

Katarina shrugged. "She played her part."

"Like Lia," Reddington said sourly. He straightened from where he'd slouched further and further against a desk, the posture strange on him. "They used Brigitte to hide it, had her deliver the final piece to you and Elizabeth, and then they killed her after setting the retrieval cues in place."

"And that's what we need now," Katarina pressed. "Tom, if we're going to save Masha - if we have any hope of saving my daughter - we need the Archive. You must have seen the Fulcrum at some point. It was a stagnant piece. It never updated. This - the Sikorsky Archive - has _everything_. We can leverage it to get her back."

Tom felt like the room was spinning as she struggled to look at every angle. "How? Even if we could recover my memories, it wouldn't give us a location. We need Liz too. She has the other piece, right?"

"I have her piece."

Scottie whipped around to look at Katarina. "How?"

The redhead averted eye contact for the briefest of moments, but she never looked around to Reddington. "Several years ago Masha uncovered certain truths that she shouldn't have found. They put people in danger and would have done immense damage if I hadn't handled it."

"Handled it how?" Cooper asked, his tone icy.

Katarina heaved a sigh. "She doesn't remember it and I do. That's all that matters."

Reddington's expression darkened. "Krilov. You're the one."

"Not the time or place," Katarina snapped and turned to Tom. "How far are you willing to go to save your wife?"

Tom pushes a frustrated breath out through his nose. "You know that answer. It's why you tracked me down. Why you hired me."

"Now that you remember her, I want to hear you say it."

There was a long moment where both operatives studied each other. She knew. He'd already proven how far he'd go. "I'd die for her," he answered, the confessions riding out on a breath.

"Good man. Then we need to take a trip."

* * *

As soon as they had gotten ahold of her and shoved her in the van a bag had been dropped over her head, cutting off any chance of catching a glimpse out of the window as they drove. Liz sat and listened, noting as they drove over railroad tracks, took a turn, or the little bit of light that made its way through the bag snuffed out, signalling a tunnel. At one point when the lights went out, they stopped, and she was shuffled into another vehicle and sat on what felt like a hard bench. Another van, just with different plates and colour, she imagined.

She struggled to keep track of all the turns, but after a while she was certain that this was not an A to B type of drive. They knew what they were doing, and by the time they stopped, she had no idea where they had taken her.

The doors to her right opened and they shuffled her out. Her boots hit solid concrete and as the bag was pulled away Liz found herself in an open warehouse. A quick glance around didn't provide her with any definitive evidence as to where she'd been driven to, not that she was up-to-date on whatever New Jersey warehouse district they were likely in. By this point, she wasn't sure what city it was.

Heels tapped against the hard floor and echoed through the space, drawing Liz's attention. A woman that she recognized as Emilia Schmitz strode towards her. She looked more like a business woman than a field operative in her heels and skirt suits. Her pale blue eyes narrowed as she stopped. "Masha Rostova." The name left her lips, the pronunciation flawlessly Russian rather than what her file would indicate was her native German.

" _Special Agent_ Elizabeth Keen," Liz corrected. "You kidnapped a federal agent."

"Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Schmitz asked, slipping into a general American accent like one might find in one of the larger cities. "I expected more from Katarina's daughter that has been trained by Raymond Reddington himself."

"And what did you expect?" Liz growled lowly.

The other woman's gaze swept her up and down, disappointment etched into her expression. "Just… more."

Liz let her own gaze drop, mumbling indistinctly under her breath.

"And you think that will change my mind?" Schmitz scoffed, leaning closer. "What are you —?"

She didn't stop to second guess it as she pitched forward, her head colliding with Schmitz's and sending the other woman reeling back. Safeties gave audible clicks as guns were trained on her and Liz let a slow, dangerous smile draw her lips out. "You can threaten me all you want, do whatever you want, but I'm not giving you anything."

Schmitz wiped at the trickle of blood at her split lip. "Everyone has a price."

"I don't have what you're looking for."

"And what do you think that is?"

"The Archive. You want to find it."

The blonde woman snorted, amusement lining her voice. "I didn't go through all of the trouble of taking you for _your_ price. Your hers, and she'll come for you. All the way to our doorstep." She turned, shouting orders in German over her shoulder and the bag slid down over Liz's face again.

* * *

Raymond Reddington pushed a breath out through his nose as he felt the plane level off for the short flight from DC to Ocean City where they hoped to recover a piece of key buried deep in Tom Keen's memory that would lead them to the Sikorsky Archive. He didn't have long and this might be the only opportunity that he had for a while to confront Katarina on the terrible truth she had dropped so casually at the Post Office.

She was seated folded up at one end of the bench opposite of Scottie and Tom, the younger Hargrave with his gaze fixed on the clouds outside. She didn't look up as he approached, but he saw a small twitch of recognition when he spoke. "A word?"

There was a beat and then another, and he felt frustration flood through him before she finally heaved a sigh and stood. She motioned dramatically and he led her to two facing seats in the back of the plane to afford them as much privacy as he could.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"You took her memories," he snapped, hating that he sounded as on edge as he felt. Elizabeth was missing - taken - and their current plan hinged on sparking something within a man who might never remember that day again.

"It's nothing you haven't done," Katarina argued. "You couldn't wait to wipe me away."

"She was traumatized. You heard Sam. She woke crying and screaming. Inconsolable. I took a horrific memory from her in hopes that she wouldn't grow up thinking she had killed her own father, for what little good it did in the end."

"And you think I would have taken memories if not to protect her? To protect _you_?"

Reddington met her gaze steadily. "What did she find?"

"The name Nicholai Yahontov."

The name hit Reddington like a blow to the gut. He couldn't quite catch his breath. "How?"

"That took a little more digging. Turns out Howard found her and set her chasing down leads. Whatever she found, it led her to that name. Worse, it led her to Alexei."

Reddington had known that Howard had sunk a tremendous amount of resources into finding his son over the years. If he had found Elizabeth but not Tom, he might have even convinced her to tell him where he was if Katarina hadn't intervened. Katarina would never admit to it, of course, but Red would wager she was the one that had sabotaged Howard's plane a few years before rather than Scottie. That was likely when she had found out that it had been Howard that had tipped her off, but if it took her that long that meant that she had had to track down the answers. That meant someone else could know she was following those threads. "Schmitz isn't after the Archive."

"I doubt she'd toss it away, but if she's working for Jonas Bauer these days, they'll have Masha on a plane to Bonn before either of us could stop them."

"Even if we find the Archive, there's no guarantee he'll release her for it."

"We both know he won't. The stubborn old bastard only wants one thing, but if we get it, we can end this once and for all. You and I can finally walk away. From all of this. We'll win the war, Raymond."

"And risk Elizabeth in the process. I'm not willing to risk her life for mine."

"You knew this could happen and you trained her well. This is our best chance at protecting her and her child now."

"Or we could give him Nicholai," Red said softly.

"Don't be absurd," Katarina snapped. "This is our best course of action."

Reddington didn't counter her as he felt the plane start their descent.

* * *

The cool ocean breeze hit him as soon as he stepped from the car, the exit bringing with it all the sights and sounds of a private beach devoid of anyone else walking along the sand. Tom looked out, images and voices teasing at the edge of his memory and he felt a chill run up and down his spine. There was a rhythm he could feel, quick and steady, conflicting wildly with the crashing of the waves. He though he heard Scottie's voice behind him, but he found himself inching towards the waves.

The trip to the Jersey shore had been tense and mostly silent. Reddington fumed over what was apparently new knowledge to everyone that Katarina had stolen her daughter's memories away - what was it with these people? - and they spoke lowly through part of the flight until lapsing into silence all over again. Tom, for his part, had said nothing as he wrestled with his own fears that he wouldn't be able to remember what was needed to protect Liz. He should have gone with her. He should have protected her.

Thoughts of the woman he loved stirred up memories like the ones Katarina had been so desperate for him to recall. He could see a beach similar to that one - or perhaps even the same one years before - and two children building a sandcastle. He focused on the memory, trying to follow it down to what they needed, but all he could recall was the sound of Liz's - Masha's - laughter and the spray from the ocean.

A hand touched his arm and he jumped a little, startled to find Scottie by his slide. She offered a thin smile. "We met them several times here. You were always…. shy until you got to know new people. You never had that problem with her."

He drew in a trembling breath. "When did Brigitte meet us?"

"The last time. Everything was put into motion after that."

"Was this what you wanted to tell me?"

Scottie didn't answer him for a long moment, and when Tom turned towards her, he saw tears standing in her eyes as she looked out on the ocean. "Pieces. I wish I could tell you I would have told you everything, but I would have at least told you pieces."

Tom nodded solemnly and turned back to stare at the horizon. He let his eyes slip closed, and instead of trying to remember Liz, he struggled tug at a memory with Brigitte in it. "Tell me about her. Brigitte, I mean."

"She was young. We all were. Young and dedicated. She thought she was helping to hide the central database that would have helped them achieve their goals. She believed in them."

He listened, eyes closed and he sank down to sit in the sand as she continued to describe how Brigitte had met them there, how she had been read in to the plan as if their superiors knew about it too, and how she'd never been given the chance to verify that intel. She'd been young and idealistic, with a soft voice and green flecks in her blue eyes. Her red hair had been dyed and Tom could almost feel the woman he'd conjured up in his mind's eye take a seat with him and lean in close as if telling him a secret.

" _Tom_!"

He jolted, wondering vaguely when he had pitched forward against the sand and his breathing was strangely ragged for such a mild memory. Maybe because it had only been mild on the surface. "I remember what she told me," he gasped, the weight of the words hanging in the salty air between them.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Who's excited for the bucketload of answers that you got in this chapter? Now I need you to hold onto that feeling because next Thursday is Christmas Eve and there's a better than even chance there won't be an update because I'll be traveling and spending time with family. There MAY be something else that I'm working on for a gift exchange, though, so keep your eyes open ;)

For those celebrating Hanukkah right now, I hope you have had a fantastic and peaceful Hanukkah! For those gearing up for Christmas next week, Happy Christmas! If you celebrate in another way and in whatever way you celebrate this time of year, I hope you're safe and happy and doing very, very well in this chaotic year. Here's to 2021 being a thousand times better, right?

 **Next Time** : Liz meets Jonas Bauer, Dembe and Nez find themselves positioned for a rescue, and Red doesn't always get to take on the world alone. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz meets Jonas Bauer, Dembe and Nez find themselves positioned for a rescue, and Red doesn't always get to take on the world alone.

Twenty-seven. That had been it, and even if the Cabal had found the information somehow - even if they had managed to piece it together with the knowledge that Katarina had wiped from Elizabeth's memory - it would have been a couple of drops in a very large bucket of possible meanings. Scottie and Katarina clearly knew what Tom meant, even if he didn't know himself. It took some prodding, but they finally acknowledged that it was an old address to a safe house that hadn't been used by either the KGB or the Cabal. It was - and evening this took a little more prodding - the house that Scottie had lived in when she and Katarina had met as teenagers. Boston was their next stopping point and as Reddington waved them off to go give Edwards the coordinates that he would need, he took the moment of reprieve to make a call.

The phone rang and rang, each round building the anxiety that years of discipline managed to keep from showing on his face. Finally it connected.

" _He hasn't moved_ ," Dembe's voice filtered through the line, and he sounded just shy of irritable that he had been disturbed.

"He wouldn't need to," Reddington answered him in hushed tones. "They're bringing Elizabeth to him."

" _She's been taken_?"

"Yes. I don't need to tell you how important it remains that he doesn't find out who she is."

There was a beat of silence before Dembe asked the question that had been gnawing at Reddington's soul. " _Will that protect her_?"

The older man loosed a breath and risked a glance to see Tom's gaze finding anywhere else to focus. "I don't know," he confessed. "All of this… I had hoped to shield her from it."

" _Is that it_?"

"By shielding me, I shielded her," Reddington answered lowly, but the old words tasted false on his tongue. If they were or if it was just the guilt souring them, he couldn't be sure. "Do you have a way to know when they bring her in?"

" _Yes_."

"Good. Get her home safely." He ended the call and found Tom Keen next to him. He suppressed the urge to jump. "Yes?"

"That's where Dembe is, huh?"

"Yes," he breathed.

"You think he can get to her."

"I hope he can."

"And if not?"

"Then Katarina and your mother are right in thinking that the Archive is our last card to play."

* * *

Nez had always been good at slipping in and out of personas at a moment's notice. She enjoyed the high of playing a part that, if she slipped up, could land her in a brawl for her life. She was sure that said something about her as a person - competition bred from being the only girl in a family of boys only to move on to the male-driven and highly competitive nuclear department of the US Navy or the fact that she had never had time to settle into an existence before it was abruptly and often violently disrupted - but it had served her well in Halcyon. It had taught her to read her opponent and to react with a flexibility that they could rarely adjust for quickly enough to counter. Now, though, it was going to go a step further. It was going to provide her with access to Mattie's killer.

It was strange. She couldn't even pinpoint when she'd developed feelings for the man, let alone feelings that would drive her to take risks like she was taking to infiltrate Bauer's security. It had only been a few years before that they had had guns trained on each other, either of them choosing their Hargrave to side with in the messy fallout that had been Tom's choice to work for Halcyon. Nez has chosen Howard as the man that had pulled her from the downward spiral that had been her addiction and Solomon had chosen the woman that had pulled him from the clutches of death. If they'd both been right, both wrong, or somewhere in between was still something Nez had wrestled with even after Howard's betrayal had come to light and she had returned to Scottie's side. She respected Scottie. She admired Scottie. That didn't mean that everything Howard had done for her was negated by what he'd done to his wife or to the company. It had been nice to side with Matias Solomon again, even if the two notoriously careful individuals had taken it so slow that they hadn't gotten beyond the occasion flirt, which was where Solomon had lived anyway. Somewhere in there it had become more, though, and that somewhere had led here right there.

Nez hadn't had a great deal of experience working with Reddington's right-hand-man, but Dembe was proving himself to be a valuable asset. Everyone had a weakness, and while Dembe had been able to find Bauer's, it didn't match a role that he could fill. Nez, on the other hand, fit it like a glove with her new slinky dress that made her skin crawl and six inch spiked heels that took more concentration than she would have preferred to stay upright in. It did do the trick to get her through the front door, and that was closer to the man that had ordered the hit on Solomon than she had ever hoped to reach this quickly. She could play a hooker for a little bit.

Her phone buzzed and she risked a brief glance down to find the text _she's here_ scrawled across her phone. Nez deleted the message before stuffing it back in her purse, straightening in the middle of the room in which she had been left. _She_. That didn't narrow it down a lot.

The doors at the far end of the room opened to reveal the most cliché German that she had ever seen. Blond, blue eyed, and rigid, all he was missing was a swastika he could have marched goose step in Hitler's army a couple of generations before.

"Fraulein Richter," he greeted her by the name she had given him. "Herr Bauer will see you now."

Nez let a small smile tilt her lips, letting the thought of the sharp chopsticks in her thick hair and the way that they would look stuck in the man's jugular fuel the expression as she followed the unsuspecting lackey back.

It was a private residence. Ornate and old. The wood was polished and the antiques were set so that anyone passing through wouldn't be able to ignore just how much the owner had spent on the decorations. She followed the rigid valet with her head held high and her gaze sweeping the hall. It snapped around as they passed an adjacent corridor, a familiar figure being led down it, and it was everything that Nez could do not to look startled by the unexpected sight of Elizabeth Keen.

_She's here._

Nez was shuffled into the room at the far end of the hall and told to wait there before the door closed with a resounding echo behind her.

* * *

They had loaded her onto the plane with only a little more care than they had loaded her into the van, but at least she hadn't been expected to wear a bag over her head for the duration of the flight. Once they landed she had been moved to a town car with windows so dark that she couldn't see out of them and she would have bet no one could see into either. All in all, Liz was fairly certain that anyone that might have been able to track her couldn't find her at this point.

That was until she spotted Nez Rowan down the hall.

She had only met her husband's partner a few times over the years, but she was hard to forget. Dangerously striking, she had acknowledged once, even if only to herself. How Scottie had tracked her, she would have to ask her once she was free. Until then it was about finding the opportunity that would get her out of there.

Schmitz had escorted her to a study with floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with dusty, old tomes. Her wrists were bound together. Liz leaned in to pretend to observe them as she went over their route from the private, underground garage to where they stood and counter her blessings that Townsend had parted ways with them at the airport. The man had had his beady gaze fixed on her for what had felt like the entire flight.

The door to the study opened, revealing a broad shouldered man with none of his white hair remaining on the crown of his head. Bauer. He sauntered in, his expression already bored. "Emilia," he greeted, but spoke to her in German.

Liz thought she heard Townsend's name mentioned, but couldn't be sure until Schmitz responded, saying it again and chuckling. The man turned piercing blue eyes on Liz. "Masha Rostova."

"Like I told your friend here, it's Special Agent Keen," Liz countered, and she thought she saw a hint of amusement flicker across his expression.

"Please," he said in English, "take a seat. Has anyone offered you tea?"

Liz held her bound hands up. "I'd much rather have these removed."

"I'm sure you would, but as I once knew your mother very well, I think not." Liz did her best to school her expression, but he must have seen something. She watched his lips quirk up. "She worked with me once, many years ago. I brought her into the organization that you call the Cabal."

"You recruited her?" Liz murmured softly.

"I did, but I knew her years before that. Her father - your grandfather - let his love for her hamper his ability to push her. I knew what she was capable of."

"What's that?"

"Violent and terrible things," Bauer chuckled and moved to a decanter in the corner. "I never questioned the reason she rocketed to greatness in her field, but our leadership at the time - an American - underused her just as her father had and she betrayed us all."

Liz had spent the better part of a decade desperate for answers about her mother, but even as she stood and listened to them tumble from this man's lips, she knew they didn't come free. "Schmitz said you wanted her. Why? To get what she stole from you?"

"There are those that are interested in the Sikorsky Archive. You must have met Townsend. He's one. Devil of a man, but his pockets are almost as deep as mine, and that makes him useful." His gaze snapped to her before he crossed the space with two glasses of scotch and offered her one, utterly ignoring Schmitz who had all but faded to the background. She took it, but didn't drink. "I don't care about the Archive. I want Katarina Rostova because Imshe worked for the man that I believe helped steal my son away."

Well, that hadn't been what she expected. "Your son?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

She adjusted her grip on her glass. "What happened?"

Bauer took a long sip of his own, nearly draining the amber liquid. "Nicholai - my son - was a troubled boy after his mother passed. One day he was simply gone. I searched for him, but every sign pointed to an accident. Staged - I discovered many years later - I believe by your mother's handler. If he knew where Nicholai went and who he became, Katarina will know."

As well as he told the story, and as hard as it tugged on every emotional string that it was meant to, something wasn't adding up. "Why would she know?"

He studied her carefully, but a crash outside the door drew his attention. It was followed by the door itself slamming open and Schmitz drew her weapon on an empty hall. She started forward, eyes narrowed, and two shots went off from beyond where Liz could see and Nez Rowan in her dress and bare feet leaned around the door frame to take a third that left Emilia Schmitz lying on the floor, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. Nez trained the gun on Bauer who raised his hands slowly. "You just know you'll never make it out of the city - let alone the country - alive."

"But you'll be dead," Nez growled.

Liz felt dread slam into her like a freight train. Nez wasn't a rescue party. She was here to avenge Solomon, which would get them both killed. She thought fast, emptying the liquor from her glass as she swung it around hard, the thick tumbler colliding with the man's head and he crumpled to the floor.

Nez looked ready to explode, but Liz was already moving towards the exit. "Would he really want you to die just to say you took the man that killed him down with you? If we're getting out of here, we have to leave _now_."

There was only the briefest of pauses before Nez loosed a growl of frustration and followed Liz into the hallway.

* * *

While a private jet made hopping from one city to another infinitely easier, it didn't do anything to get an update on Liz to them any quicker and Tom was starting to think that the waiting would be what finally did him in. He hid the raging anxiety behind a long-perfected mask of calm, careful not to let everything he was turning over in his head show on his face. Reddington had said that Katarina and Scottie should be focused on getting to and accessing the Archive. They didn't need the distraction of knowing that Dembe would be staging a rescue mission. The excuse rang hollow, but pushing back on it was pointless now and only heightened the chances that Red would try to cut him out further.

They arrived at a narrow, old home in East Boston that was tucked away off the beaten path. While it didn't look abandoned, per se, it certainly didn't look lived in either. "It's just a few blocks away from where we met," Scottie breathed as Katarina worked casually at the lock with a set of picks. It didn't take much to jimmy the door open and the four of them filed in.

A layer of dust showed no one had been inside the home in a while now, but it was fully furnished, including what looked like a security camera in the corner that was pointed so that it would have spotted anyone coming in through the window or the front door. Both Scottie and Katarina's phones buzzed simultaneously and Tom tilted his head a little. "What?"

"An agency that we've used for years was set up to watch the feed. We just got an alert," Katarina explained, her voice distracted as she started through the house.

Great. No matter how dedicated an agency might seem, there was always a price that they could be bought at. Bud had sworn for years that he would never be willing to betray a client, but the moment Tom had given him the proposed figure Berlin had reached out with, his old mentor had been the number one supporter of the allegiance switch. "How much time do we have?"

"Even if they wanted to betray us, they can't trace that signal," Scottie explained. "We'll be long gone by the time they could figure out where we are."

"That doesn't mean we have time to waste," Katarina snapped. "We're looking for a mainframe."

Tom's gaze followed the sound of her footsteps heading upward on the stairs. "Here?"

"That's what the code meant."

He pushed a long, frustrated breath through his nose and Scottie looked like she was going to offer him something, but her cell buzzed again and she signalled for just a moment. As she disappeared down a short hall, Tom turned to find Reddington looking at his own phone. "I'll start in the garage," he offered and didn't wait for an acknowledgment before brushing past him. Tom waited half a beat before following.

Reddington strode forward with a purpose, replacing his fedora on his head as he started to round a corner back out to the street. "Reddington!" Tom called as quietly as he could so he wouldn't draw either of the women's attention.

The Concierge of Crime clenched his jaw. "If you want to help her, help them."

"What's your plan?" He waited, holding the other man's gaze. "If you can convince me that you can go in alone without getting her killed, I won't stand in your way."

He watched the struggle play out in the small twitches of his muscles and subtly behind his eyes. Whatever plan he had, even Raymond Reddington couldn't lie and tell him he thought he could do it alone. He straightened. "You will do what I say, when I say it, is that understood, Tom?"

"Sure," the younger man tossed back and apparently it was enough. Red turned to leave. "What about Scottie and Katarina?"

"They're resourceful. They'll figure it out."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Happy New Years, everybody! I'm hoping to take this evening and tomorrow to get some good writing done on this. I'm just a few chapters away from the end (but don't worry, I'm also writing several chapters ahead of what I'm posting, so you've got more heading your way!) and everything's coming together. If you have any theories about who Nicholai is, who Bauer really is, or anything like that, I'd love to hear them. Curious to see if anyone's figured it out yet :)

 **Next Time** : Liz and company make their escape, Tom pushes for the truth about Bauer, and Agnes helps bring Samar and Aram a little closer together.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and company make their escape, Tom pushes for the truth about Bauer, and Agnes helps bring Samar and Aram a little closer together.

The moment of truth had been if Nez was willing to walk away from the unconscious Jonas Bauer. Liz's bet had been that she wouldn't find shooting an unconscious man nearly as satisfying as watching the life leave his eyes. Good thing that she'd been right.

A hand grabbed her, dragging her back into the room with force. "The window is our best bet."

Liz spun to look at her. "We're on the third story," she countered, wondering if while she had read Nez's actions in regards to Bauer right she had misjudged the other woman's will to live.

"Still better than being riddled with bullets by automatic weapons," Nez said as she shut the heavy door. They moved together without speaking, but Liz studied the other woman as they shuffled a large, heavy table in front of the door as a barricade. Combined military and Halcyon training left her movements sharp and precise, each step mentally calculated out. She was a professional through and through, and maybe that would be enough to get her out of what must have been a suicide mission alive.

Nez moved to the window and threw it open, Liz joining her there. "They would have heard the shots here. The curtains should be long enough to get us down to the room below and buy us some time to get to the stairwell. Most of the security will be on their way here. We shouldn't have any problem with the rest." She found a pair of pale eyes fixed in her. "What?"

"Honestly, I never saw it before. You and Tom. I get it now."

"Thank you?"

The barest of smiles touched Nez's lips, but she didn't bother with a verbal response as she ripped the curtains from their respective rods. Liz helped her tie them together and secure them to shimmy down, thankful for her love of thick-soled boots as she kicked the French windows open below.

They were met with as little resistance as they had anticipated, taking out the scattered guards between them and the exit, and the pilfered weapons they got their hands on for them out the back gate. Liz risked a look around, shouts in German drawing her attention for the briefest of moments before Nez dragged her back behind a large bush. They waited, barely breathing, until the danger had passed and they could risk moving again.

She watched Nez check her phone and noted the way the lines in her face deepened just a little as she pulled her cell phone out and typed. "I'm sorry," Liz said quietly.

"Believe it or not, I wasn't there to rescue you."

"I meant about Solomon."

Nez's fingers froze over the keys and Liz watched her carefully reset. "Well, we can't all get the men in our lives back from the dead with just a few memories missing," she snapped.

Liz swallowed the retort about it being more than a few - some things just weren't helpful - and Nez seemed to notice. "Thank you. For what it's worth, I have a lot of respect for your husband. I'm glad he's alright."

"You were here for Bauer."

"Yeah."

"Alone?"

"Well, I came to Germany alone. I didn't stage the infiltration alone."

Liz didn't have a chance to ask her what they meant as they rounded a corner into an alley, nearly colliding with Dembe. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief at the friendly face and launched herself at him, her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace readily. "It is good to see you, Elizabeth."

"You two need to move fast," Nez said, motioning to the adjacent street that had more activity than it deserved at that hour.

"What do you mean?" Liz demanded. "You're coming with us."

"You said it earlier: I'm here for Bauer."

"You'll never get to him now."

"I'll give it my best."

"You'll get yourself killed trying, and what good will that do?"

"Nez." Dembe's calm and even tone cut through the building argument. "This is not the last time our paths will cross Bauer's, and there is better strength in numbers."

Liz reached out, her touch on the other woman's arm light. "Come with us."

There was a long moment of indecision before Nez finally grunted what Liz hoped was an agreement. "Do we have an extraction?"

Dembe nodded. "Yes, as long as we can make it out of Bonn."

* * *

Reddington had been on the phone more since they had gotten airborne than Tom could remember seeing before. Some conversations were easier to identify. He thought one was Katarina. The short, terse words that gave little away and Reddington moved to the back of the plane under the guise of pouring himself a drink. Cooper was another call. That one Red apparently had no issue with Tom overhearing as he took a seat directly across from the younger man, crossed one knee over the other, and provided a vague update in that condescending tone of his. Yes, they had found Liz, yes his "people" had her, but no he would not give the FBI her location to go in and complicate the situation. Definitely Cooper.

Tom hit decline on his own phone, Scottie's number vanishing as a missed call, and he leaned forward in his seat as Reddington ended the conversation with what sounded like an increasingly irate assistant director on the other end of the line. "You never told me what the message you got said."

"You're right. I didn't," Reddington answered, his tone hollow as he sipped at his drink.

"You just told Cooper that your people have her. Who is that? What does that mean?" A long enough moment passed that it was clear that Reddington had no interest offering any clarity. Tom leaned a little further forward. "Hey. You want my help, you need to read me in."

"I didn't want your help. I would have preferred you lend your talents to getting the Archive to a safe location so that it can be used to ensure Elizabeth's safety moving forward, but you were determined to come along."

"You needed backup, which means whatever _people_ of yours that Liz is with aren't very many." He settled back again. "How did you get someone out there that quick anyway? Even if you had an idea they were taking her overseas, no way your people had enough time to do the groundwork it would have taken to find her, which means they were already there. Which means you were already watching the top dog in this fight." Reddington didn't show it in his expression, but his careful silence gave his discomfort away. Tom was close, just like he had been when he pressed to confirm what Howard had told them about Reddington's connection to Liz. "It's Jonas Bauer, isn't it?"

"Who it is doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't," Tom snapped.

"Dembe will get her to the extraction point and this will all be behind her soon."

"I need to know —"

" _No_!" Reddington growled, his gaze flashing towards Tom dangerously. "You think you do, and that is what started all of this! If you had simply left well enough alone, if you hadn't trusted Kate so implicitly and rifled around in things you couldn't possibly comprehend, Elizabeth would be _safe_ now. That choice, you and the damn bones, led us here." He collapsed back in his seat, the sudden outburst over at least for the moment.

Tom loosed a small, startled breath as the words worked memories into place for the puzzle on whole. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Kate. I get wanting to kill you after what you did to her, but why use Liz? Someone she cared about."

"It wasn't about Elizabeth in the end, because there was a time that Kate understood why Katarina and I buried the truth so deeply. Elizabeth was… a pawn, I suppose, just as you were. A way to tear down all the protections I had put in place."

"We were pawns because no one would tell us the truth. I love Liz. Please. Let me help you protect her." He waited and Red said nothing. "This Bauer…. did he know the real Reddington? Is that what brought him into this."

Reddington sighed, his gaze drifting to the window. "He never met him. Ray was… a friend to me. Young and alone just like me, with hopes and aspirations."

"But you killed him?"

"No, but he is dead because of me," Reddington admitted with a touch of sadness.

He was missing something. A key piece that would explain the link with Bauer.

"Bauer took Elizabeth to lure Katarina out. Likely because he believes she can lead him to his son."

"Is that you? Are you Bauer's son?"

Reddington drew in a shaky breath and released his answer on it. "Nicholai died many ago."

"And became Raymond Reddington." The truth hung between them. "That's why you're going…. to give yourself up for her? She won't want that."

"He wants me more than her… as long as he never finds out who she is to him."

And there it was. The reason Reddington never wanted Liz to know he was her father. But she did, and Tom didn't need all of his memories to know that she loved him. "She doesn't want to lose you," he said again firmly.

"Perhaps she won't," he said softly. "But life has taught me to have contingency plans." He turned to meet Tom's gaze. "When I first hired you, it was to protect her. After everything, I believe you'll do just that."

He swallowed hard, and he hated how small his words sounded. "She'll never forgive me."

Reddington gave a thin, mirthless smile. "She will, in time, because she loves you."

Tom nodded, the movement small and stiff. He hoped that was true, but he wasn't sure he was ready to test that hope.

* * *

Agnes had slipped Agent Markum again. The young agent had been nearly frantic over it - not a personality trait that Aram had seen in her before she had received this particular assignment - as she moved briskly from one desk to the next to peer under them in hopes that the little girl had tucked herself away there in an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. She hadn't, and since Aram was stuck in a holding pattern until news came in from one source or another, he had offered to help.

He had looked in Liz's office, in the interrogation room, and he was on his way back to the lockers when a high-pitched giggle caught his attention. Aram pivoted around to redirect towards the stairs and the small break area - rarely used for actual breaks - at the top of them. He stopped, listened, and started up as quietly as he could when he heard Agnes chattering away at the top.

"See? Here's the trees and the, and the lake. Here's a puppy and a horse -"

"What's a horse doing in the park?"

Aram paused halfway up the stairs, Samar's voice like a knife in his chest.

"Playing with the puppy," Agnes answered matter-of-factly.

Samar's soft laugh somehow managed to simultaneously gut him and lift his spirits at once. He wasn't sure which won out.

"Who is that?"

"Mommy and Daddy. That's me."

"Do you go to the park with them a lot?"

"Maybe when I was little," Agnes said in a way only a child could. "Daddy was gone and then he didn't remember anything."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. He's getting better."

"That's good."

"Uh-huh. Hi, Uncle 'Ram."

Aram blinked hard and he had no idea when he'd taken the last few steps to the top of the landing, but there he was, standing and staring at Agnes and Samar who were curled up on the old, battered couch with a sketchbook between them. In that same split second that he realized he was there, he watched the calm joy wash out of Samar's expression and she seemed to shrink back a little. She'd been her until she had known he was watching. He wasn't sure what to make of that. "Hi."

"You wanna draw with us?"

"I do, but you know, Agent Markum is looking for you."

Agnes turned intentionally back to her sketch pad and flipped the page. "She didn't wanna colour."

Samar reached forward to the coffee table in front of them and grabbed one of the crayons there. As she settled back, Aram found himself thinking of happier days when a baby Agnes had just gotten home from where her would-be-grandfather had tried to kidnap her and he and Samar had sat together on that very couch sharing leftovers from all of his favourite restaurants that Janet - Elise, he'd thought at the time - had cobbled together to make the perfect dinner date. Somehow, as perfect as the date with Janet or Elise or whoever he'd thought had seemed, sharing those leftovers with Samar had been better. There'd been other women that he knew in varying degrees and that always seemed to have some ulterior motive in his life, but with Samar things had been… maybe not simple, but it had been right. Things didn't have to be simple when they were right.

Which this was not. Not anymore. He'd made that decision. He'd fought that battle with himself, and it had led to the brutal understanding that to keep her safe, he couldn't be with her. Even now, sitting right in front of him and reminding him so much of the woman he loved, he couldn't be with her. If he were honest, it had nothing to with being the woman that had walked away from him to keep him safe or not. People changed. They grew, and he'd hoped once that they could get to know those changes each new day together, but even if he got to know the new Samar here and now - and no matter how much he wanted to fight it, Aram knew he'd love this Samar too, because she was still there when she wasn't fighting to remember - he'd have to let her go all over again.

"Are you alright?"

He sucked in a breath, finding himself lost in those beautiful eyes of hers and utterly unable to speak.

"Uncle 'Ram, come colour with us!" Agnes demanded.

He nodded numbly, forcing a smile. "Just for a few minutes."

* * *

The fact that Raymond had slipped away without warning and taken Masha's husband with him was not ideal, but they were gone and there was nothing that could be done about that now. The boy was good. Even without Scottie to guide him he'd grown into a talented operative that she could trust to protect her daughter. Raymond could too, even if he wouldn't admit that quite as easily, and it was likely why he'd taken Masha's husband with him. She could only hope that the two of them could get in and get her out. If they had any snag along the way, if Raymond got too close to the man that was calling himself Jonas Bauer, nothing good could come of it.

At least he didn't know who Raymond was, and shouldn't if he just kept his mouth shut. Scottie had sent one of her pet operatives to Bonn for information and the woman had linked up with Dembe. If this Rowan was half as good as Scottie claimed, they would get her out of there. Raymond had no business jumping into the fire. He was letting his emotions get the best of him and that had always been a weakness of his. One that he had worked to tame over the years, but a weakness nevertheless. It did no good to rush in to save her if he didn't have the key to bringing the whole damn house of cards down around his head.

She might not be able to do anything about the fact that he'd left, but she didn't have to like it.

A soft, frustrated breath left Katarina as she crossed the room, removing yet another painting from the wall to see if she could find signs of a hidden compartment. Nothing. Just like every other room in this forsaken place. Perhaps Brigitte had known what they had planned and her last act in this life had been to leave them a map to nowhere. While it wouldn't have been typical for her, there was no telling what a cornered person was capable of.

Katarina squeezed her eyes shut and flung the painting against the wall of the dining room in a rare fit of frustration.

"What the hell was that?" Scottie called as she rounded the corner into view, her heels tapping against the solid wood under them.

Solid until one point.

Both women froze at the hollow echo beneath expensive heels and in an instant they were on their knees and looking for a hidden latch. Katarina's fingers found it and they pulled together, revealing a hidden door that led deeply into a basement that wasn't apparent from the outside of the house. The stairs were steep, closer to a ladder, and they started down.

It was dark except for the lights dancing from the floor to the ceiling against what looked like a back wall. Katarina started forward, barely able to breathe in anticipation, and jumped as lights flashed on. She turned to find Scottie with her long fingers wrapped around a pull cord attached to an old light bulb. The other woman's dark gaze flickered up and down, taking it in. She had been instrumental in gaining access to the technology that had allowed them to securely set up the Archive. Data was siphoned and bounced all over the globe before being delivered to those very servers. It was nearly impossible to trace, and even if someone had managed it, there were precious few people left that could access it and only one person that would have an intimate enough knowledge of the tech to quickly sift through it to separate the Cabal's secrets from those that would - as they had planned so many years ago - reignite the Cold War.

"You know there's a chance he won't agree to help us," Scottie said softly.

"If he's half the patriot he's convinced himself he is, he will." He had to, otherwise Raymond was going to do something exceptionally foolish.

"He's going to think I tried to kill him to keep it safe."

Katarina snorted and found her friend looking at her. She waved it off. "This should exonerate you. You always needed him if this day came. That's why you used it. To protect him."

"The things we do for the ones we love."

"Make the call. This needs to happen now or there won't be anyone left to love."

Scottie closed her eyes and for the briefest of moments Katarina thought she might be rethinking her part in all of this. When she re-opened them, though, all of that old resolve that had made her so dangerous for so long was back. She pulled her phone out, checked the bars, and started for the stairs. Katarina stood and waited, listening for her to make that call.

All she heard was the gunshot.

* * *

Dembe had said they had an extraction plan if they could just make it out of Bonn. The problem was that Bauer's people knew they were there and knew they were trying to leave. Liz couldn't help but feel like she was being herded, cut off from every useful exit and pushed towards the one that her enemies wanted them at. The one they could use to close in on them.

If the look on Nez's face was anything to go by, she felt the same way.

The three of them had to split at one point to reconvene at a small pastry shop several blocks away. Liz had worried about the other woman getting there, worried that she might take the opportunity to go after Bauer alone. Liz understood the drive, the need for revenge and justice, but Nez had always struck her as an intelligent woman, not someone that would needlessly toss her own life away without any hope of finishing the job. It was good to know she had a good read on her husband's former partner.

Nez sat on a stool in the back room of the shop, a half-eaten danish on a napkin balanced on her knee, and Dembe was pacing on a call. His dark gaze flickered up as Liz entered. "She's here," he told the person on the other end of the line and extended it out to her a moment later. She wasn't surprised to hear Raymond Reddington's voice filtered over the line.

" _Are you alright?_ "

"Yeah, we all are. For now." She risked a glance out the door. Something about this windowless office in the back with only one way in or out was making her nervous. "Feeling a little cornered here. Tell me you know this Franz guy."

" _Since he was born_ ," Reddington assured her.

"And he can get us out of here?"

" _Do you remember how we planned to smuggle you out of D.C. when the Cabal framed you_?"

Liz pushed a long breath out through her nose, seeing where he was going with this. "You mean how you planned to smuggle me out and how I had to improvise? Do I need to remind you that there's three of us now?"

" _Dembe and Colonel Rowan are quite capable of —_ "

"It's all three or none at all." Liz said firmly.

Reddington snorted on the other end of the line. " _I'd expect nothing less_."

She felt her lips twitch up at the corner before she forced her mind into a more focused place. "Even if we make it to whatever extraction point your people have set up for us, this guy is going to keep coming. He thinks… He thinks my mother's handler stole his son away."

Liz listened, and his silence was a tell. Of what she wasn't sure yet.

Finally, loosed a breath. " _Elizabeth, I know how…. drawn you are to stories like this…_ "

"I want to get out of here. I want to get home to my own family. His is his business." For now, at any rate.

She could practically hear the sigh of relief even if it sounded like he was struggling to keep it to himself. " _Dembe has instructions where you'll meet your flight out. Trust him and you'll be home to your family in no time_."

She bit the inside of her cheeks, struggling with her words before releasing them. "I trust you."

"Liz," Nez hissed from the entrance, danish forgotten. It was time to go. They would handle whatever fixation Bauer had in her mother once they were home free.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : 

I hope everyone had a fantastic New Year and a good start to 2021!

 **Next Time** : Howard and Samar have a chat about memories while difficult choices are made in Germany.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Samar have a chat about memories while difficult choices are made in Germany.

The sound of a gunshot would elicit a fight of flight mode in most people, but Katarina had long since come to acknowledge that even her flight mode was just another layer of fight. It was a way of positioning the players on the board, in lulling them into complacency, but cornered like she was, there was no other way to go but up. Up the stairs with her gun in hand and through what could be the firefight of a lifetime. If she weren't willing, she would be a fish in a barrel and might as well have handed the Archive over to their enemies.

She hit the opening and found the room deserted. Her first move was to close the latch, watching it fall back into its secret place so that it looked like any other floorboard in the old house. Readjusting her grip on her gun she darted to the far wall to get an angle on the opening and look through it. A man lay dead one room over - Scottie's handiwork, she'd wager - but there were more shots down the way.

Katarina worked her way down the hall, finding a lone gunman and then another. She thought she'd cleared the room until a door struck out, slamming her hard in the face and sending her stumbling back. A black-clad man that dwarfed her came at her, using her dazed state against her. His hands went around her neck and he shoved her back until she slammed into the wall and she clawed at the hold he had on her. She kicked out, making contact with his knee, and she raised her gun to take a wild and admittedly desperate shot.

That only served to piss him off. He slammed her hand against the wall hard, once and then again, the gun dropping at second impact.

A shot echoed through the room and Katarina waited for the pain to follow. Instead, her attacker crumbled and she spotted the exit wound from a talented headshot that had somehow been angled just right that she hadn't caught the other end of it. She turned to find the ginger agent from her daughter's team. "What are you doing here?"

"Most people just say thank you," Donald Ressler huffed.

"I'm not most people."

"Clearly." He quirked an eyebrow up and didn't look amused. "House has been cleared. Where's the Archive?"

"Next room over in a hidden basement level," Scottie's voice drifted into the room and Katarina turned to see her disheveled, but whole. Good. That meant the first shot had been hers. "You'll need special equipment to move it."

"Agent Patel is with our Boston field office. Get him that information and we'll get it out of here before their back up shows." Ressler turned back to Katarina with an expectant look. "Your buddy Reddington is the one that called us, so you better rethink how helpful you wanna be."

Katarina swept her arm out in an overly dramatic gesture towards the room and waited until he was halfway past when she offered him a smirk. "Nice shot."

* * *

Samar watched the man named Howard Hargrave pace back and forth. She didn't know him, but from what she had been able to gather he was an engineer of some sort and possibly related to someone on the Task Force, but she was a little less sure of the latter. What she did know was that he was agitated, and with Aram back to his station, Cooper on a call in his office, and Agent Park having been sent to the hospital, there was no one watching him too closely. It was like they knew he couldn't get out, so unless he did much more than mutter to himself while he stalked a section of the War Room, they weren't too worried about him. Something deep in her knew that wasn't right.

"Howard?" she called out softly as she approached.

He turned, blinking hard as he focused on her. "Samar Navabi."

She started to correct him to the name that had been drilled into her sub odor her own protection, but stopped. "That's right."

"You're one of my granddaughter's godparents."

She offered a tight smile. "Are you alright?"

"Ahh!" he snarled, throwing his hands up. "She thinks she can come into my life, steal my tech for _them_ , and because she claims to have had a change of heart, I'll just fold. Unravel this mess she's made."

He took a heavy seat in an unoccupied desk chair, and Samar pulled another over so that she could sit with him. "I'm sorry… I'm missing some memories."

"Like Tom, I heard. Did they find that doctor of yours?"

That's right. Liz's husband's father. "Yes, they did. She's… they think she'll be alright, but it's not exactly like your son. His was… intentional. My memory loss is because of an injury."

He offered a shrug and a wave of his hand. "You wouldn't need to remember it anyway. Long before any of you came into the picture. My wife married me to use me, and she succeeded. This computer everybody's buzzing about? The one they're transporting here? It's my design. She understood enough to transfer the specs and likely killed off anyone that helped with the project."

"And now she wants you to decipher the data?"

"She does. Says it's to help with all of this, but Scottie's slippery. Her show of vulnerability is never without an angle being played."

"Do you think it'll help them get the man that took Dr Orchard and kidnapped Agent Keen?" Funny, that didn't feel right. Liz. That's what she had called her. She was certain of it.

"Possibly."

"Then won't that help protect Tom too?"

She watched his expression close off and the sign that she'd said something wrong warred with intuition that she was pulling at just the right thread. Finally, his shoulders slouched. "It would."

"Maybe it's worth it then," she offered quietly.

He pushed a long breath out through his nose, but didn't respond directly to her statement. "The brain is a computer too, you know. In theory, it shouldn't necessarily matter if your memories were tampered with or if they were caused by an injury. It's just a matter of finding where it's stored and getting you access. After this is all said and done - assuming we make it that far, I might be able to help."

Samar stared for a long moment, startled by the flippant tone and the vague offer, but she didn't have a chance to say anything as the lift squealed its alert that someone was one heir way down. Howard clapped his hands together loudly as they opened to reveal Agent Ressler followed by Scottie Hargrave and the red headed woman she still didn't know the name of. "Agent Ressler! Where's this computer I've been hearing about?"

* * *

They should have been there by now. The longer they waited, the more daunting that became. According to Reddington, Bauer would either have cops in his pocket through bribery or by blackmail, but the fact was that he would have them in his pocket. It was the reason that they had chosen to land the plane outside the city and driven in to meet them. Even so, Liz and the others had find their way to them and there were any number of places that they could get caught and things could go terribly wrong. It was enough to make Tom squirm in the passenger seat of the non-descript van that they had procured.

Reddington, on the other hand, was sitting so calmly that it was grinding against his last nerve. Here was this man that had started everything. He had tried to escape his past and had - no matter how much he seemed to enjoy blaming Tom for it - brought it crashing down into their lives. The details of it didn't matter. The fact was that Bauer was after Reddington, if he knew it or not, and the best way to protect Liz and Agnes would be to turn the bastard over to his father.

The problem was that the idea made Tom's stomach turn.

Despite everything - the lies, the manipulations, the _years_ that Reddington had cost them - Liz loved him. He was her father and she loved him. She'd fight for him, and that meant Tom would too. He'd have to.

"They're here."

Reddington's voice startled him out of his thoughts and Tom straightened in his seat to see a police vehicle approaching. "Are you sure that it's —?"

"I'm certain," the older man snapped as he threw the door open and stepped out. Okay. Apparently he was sure. Tom set his jaw and followed.

The sun was dipping low in the sky as what must have been a stolen vehicle - unless Reddington also had a few local cops on payroll, which would make for an interesting clash with Bauer - pulled up and killed the engine. The large man that had been ready to protect Reddington when Tom had gone after him - Dembe. That was his name - stepped out of the driver's seat and a woman that Tom felt like he was just on the verge of remembering slipped out of the front passenger seat. The door opened behind her and all of his focus turned towards Liz. Alive and whole and so close to being safe. Their eyes met and Tom felt his lips twitch up at the corners. They could do this.

"Elizabeth," Reddington greeted as he stepped forward, inadvertently cutting off Tom's line of sight with his wife and the younger man felt the irritation return. "We need to go."

She nodded and Reddington motioned towards the SUV. Dembe moved immediately to the driver's seat, Reddington taking the front passenger's, and the familiar woman brushed past Tom towards the remaining rear seats. She paused, her pale eyes watching him for a long moment as if she were studying him. She pursed her lips together for a moment. "Scottie said you lost some of your memories."

"I'm guessing I know you."

"Yeah. We're… you're like a brother to me. It's good to see you."

Tom blinked, a little startled by the soft confession as she pulled the back door open so that she could slip to the furthest bench seat. A light touch on his arm drew his attention around and Liz was at his side. "Hey," he breathed.

"Hey, babe." Her hand drifted down to find his and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, her gaze a little desperate.

Dembe leaned out of the driver's window. "Elizabeth."

"Right," she managed and squeezed Tom's hand. "We'll have plenty of time on the way home."

He swallowed hard as she let go to climb into the waiting vehicle and he followed her in, slamming the door shut behind them. Whatever she had wanted to say to him was put aside for the business at hand. Liz leaned forward in her seat as Dembe pulled back onto the road, following the directions Reddington was giving him. "We've got a big problem. This Bauer that you didn't want us anywhere near? He thinks my mother can lead him to his son Nicholai."

Reddington stiffened in his seat for the briefest of moments. "She won't."

"Won't?" Liz echoed. "So she does know who he is? Fitch helped smuggle Berlin's daughter away. Did he do the same with Bauer's son? Do you know who he is?"

"Elizabeth, I seem to remember you saying that his family troubles were his own and that you prefer focusing on your family."

"I _am_ focusing on my family. He's coming for Katarina, my daughter is being shuffled around agents that are watching her for her protection, and this - all of this - _has to end_." She turned to look at Tom and her expression - that silent plea for support - tugged at him painfully.

"We can't give him Nicholai," he said quietly, hating the words as they left him.

"I'm not saying give him Nicholai, whoever he is. I'm saying maybe he can help us. Maybe he knows a way to -"

"We need to focus on getting out of Germany. Once we're airborne, we can… bring you up to speed."

"Everything?" Liz pressed and Tom pushed an amused breath out through his nose.

"He has to. He knows it's better coming from him."

Reddington didn't turn at the statement, but he tensed just a little at the understood threat: if he wasn't honest with Liz, Tom wouldn't keep his secrets. It was time to put the cards on the table, come what may. Instead of answering his daughter directly, though, the Concierge of Crime's gaze flickered to the rearview mirror where he seemed to be looking at Nez. "I still haven't heard how you found yourself mixed up in all of this, my dear."

"Bauer killed my partner. I have skin in this," she said firmly.

"Scottie does know how to use the desperate," he mused as the city started to give way to the countryside and no one dared to argue that one.

"I didn't know you were coming."

Tom turned to find Liz watching him carefully. "I had to make sure you were okay. Agnes is fine, I promise."

"I know." She gave him a tight, tired smile and reached across the narrow aisle between their seats. "I'm glad you came."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Raymond."

Both Keens looked to where Dembe had called Liz's father's name and Tom saw the plane coming into view. It was quiet around it, but parked at the wing was a town car. The windows were tinted dark so that it wasn't immediately clear if anyone was still inside, but the cabin door opened as they approached and the stairs unfolded down, the pilot appearing there. Behind him stood another man, a gun clear in his grasp. Dembe turned to Reddington for instructions and the older man shook his head. "Her chances of escape without Edward are slim. Tom?"

Tom cringed at the sound of his name. He knew what was coming next. "Yeah."

"What we discussed."

"Yeah."

"Be ready to move quickly," he ordered as Dembe pulled to a full stop, looking very uncomfortable with the situation, but he didn't argue.

Liz whipped around and glared at him. "What exactly did you discuss?"

"How to get you out of this alive," Tom answered softly, watching the scene play out in front of them. The pilot was urged down the stairs and Bauer appeared at the opening as Reddington stepped from the vehicle. "Are you guys armed?"

"We are," Nez answered. "You thinking we'll have to fight our way out?"

"I think we should be ready for anything."

"What's he doing?" Liz breathed as they watched Reddington approach Bauer, arms stretched out to show that he wasn't armed. He was negotiating, that much was clear even if they couldn't hear exactly what he was saying. The two men spoke, Bauer with the high ground and his thug had a death grip on the poor pilot. After a long moment he nodded and motioned. Bauer's man let Edward go and Reddington turned towards them and echoed the movement, indicating that they could approach the plane. Liz drew in a trembling breath. "What's he doing?" she demanded again.

"He's giving him Nicholai," Tom answered softly as he opened the door. He unfolded out of the vehicle and turned to offer Liz a hand.

She followed him and he hovered close as they made their way towards the waiting aircraft. Bauer moved down the stairs and towards Reddington, a vicious expression etched into his aged features. Tom had seen his fair share of demons over the years, but something about this man in close proximity chilled his blood in his veins. Any hope for a last-second reprieve washed away as Red started towards the waiting town car with Bauer.

Liz stopped on the first step up, realization clearly hitting her that Reddington wasn't coming with them. "No. No, he can't -"

"We have to go," Tom said tightly and blocked her as she tried to come back down the air stairs.

His wife turned a dangerous look on him. "I'm not leaving him here! He's bluffing. My mother knows where Nicholai is, not him. Bauer will kill him when he finds out. Tom -"

" _Liz_ ," he snapped, breaking through what was quickly turning into a spiral that they didn't have time for. "We have to go." He guided her up the stairs, using speed to his advantage, not letting her fight back. She could have, he knew. One well-placed kick would have sent him stumbling back down the stairs, but somehow he managed to get her up and into the plane. Dembe and Nez followed, pulling the door closed behind them.

"Did they get it?" Dembe demanded as Nez locked it into place.

"Scottie and Katarina should have the Archive by now," Tom confirmed.

"Then sit. We need to get to them."

"We can't just leave him," Liz argued, her voice breaking. "Tom, I know you're angry at him. I am too, but he's my father. We can't abandon him. Bauer will kill him."

"I don't think so."

"Sit," Dembe barked as the engines roared and Tom tugged her more gently towards the seats.

"Bauer's going to know he doesn't have what he wants."

"But he does."

"What? He knows where Nicholai is?"

Tom pursed his lips together, and he didn't know if the truth would make things better or worse, but he did know that he'd promised Liz the truth. "He is Nicholai. Bauer - or whatever his real name is - is Reddington's father."

Liz stared at him with wide eyes as she fell back against the seat back, a heavy silence saturating the cabin as Edward got them off the ground before Bauer had a chance to realize that he had had his granddaughter and let her go.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Well, I have officially finished the writing for this story. I still need to edit the chapters as they're posted, but for the most part this story is done, which is so strange. Don't worry, we have several chapters left to post until the end though ;)

 **Next Time** : Reddington faces his estranged father, Liz struggles with having left, and Katarina makes a power play with dangerous consequences. 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reddington faces his estranged father, Liz struggles with having left, and Katarina makes a power play with dangerous consequences.

His options had dwindled considerably when he saw Edward marched out with a gun pressed to the small of his back. He could have left him, of course, but he believed in loyalty above all else. Edward had proven himself abundantly loyal over the years and, while Reddington wasn't fool enough to ignore the fact that he'd give nearly anything to protect Elizabeth, Edward wasn't what Bauer truly wanted. No. He knew what he wanted, and offering it up would allow them all a chance to escape.

Promises recalled and understandings hanging heavily in the air, Reddington stepped from the SUV, arms outstretched to show that he came in peace. He looked past Edward to the man who was pulling the strings. He was old now. His hair was thinner, more salt than pepper for what was left of it. His skin was darkened in spots, but his eyes were still sharp and cold. He looked out with that icy expression that recalled memories long suppressed, his shoulders squared and back ramrod straight. Reddington had hoped he would die before this reunion reared its head again. Bauer - Alexei - or himself. Whichever came first, though they did say only the good die young.

Yet here they were. Some events were inevitable.

Bauer caught his gaze, but if there was a flicker of recognition or he was projecting, Reddington couldn't be sure until the only man spoke. "Raymond Reddington. The Concierge of Crime. Katarina sent you to do her dirty work."

"I'm here to negotiate."

"Aren't you always?" Bauer chuckled. "Unless you're willing to deliver her to me, I'm not interested. Katarina should have come herself."

"You want her to get to him. Nicholai." He waited, the name hanging between them. "I can reunite you with your son."

"In exchange for what?"

"Their release. The pilot, the others."

There was a moment in which Reddington thought perhaps his reputation as a deal maker hadn't preceded him in this case, but finally Bauer motioned and Edward was released. Red turned to the vehicle and motioned for them to make their move. He hoped Elizabeth might forgive him one day.

Bauer made his way down the steps of the aircraft and circled the waiting town car as Reddington was patted down - his revolver removed from the holster along with the cell phone he had carried - and ushered in behind him. He could hear shouting from behind until the door closed, sealing him in with the man he'd avoided for so long.

"I had heard some time ago that you had worked your way into the organization by exploiting Laurel Hitchin."

"It was business, nothing more," Reddington answered evenly.

"A prudent one, though longer than I would have expected after you stole the Fulcrum."

"Opportunities present themselves. Forcing them into play almost guarantees failure," he answered, his gaze flickering to the plane as Tom ushered Elizabeth up the steps. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but he needed to buy her time.

The airplane door shut and Bauer tapped the back of the driver's seat, one of his two lackeys shifting the vehicle into drive. "Time to pay the piper, Reddington. Your pets are on their way. Where is my son?"

Reddington pulled in a deep breath, the vehicle picking up speed. "I knew a man once. Still a boy in so many ways, but a broken home and struggling existence had driven him towards a life of greatness. Something more than he'd known." He could feel that icy blue gaze on him and Reddington closed his eyes, conjuring a mental image of a face that had haunted him for a long time. "He escaped that life and had just been accepted into the Naval Academy. He was… ecstatic. Hopeful, and why shouldn't he be with his whole life laid out before him? He was going to serve his country, to work his way to Admiral. All those hopes and dreams, snuffed out by a stray bullet that wasn't even meant for him."

They turned onto a busy road and Reddington opened his eyes to see an old anger he recognized from his youth. "You told me you could deliver him. I'm sure you know enough about me to understand that a grave is not fulfilling that promise."

"Nicholai isn't dead," Reddington confirmed softly, "but Raymond Reddington is. He was. And he…. I may not have pulled the trigger on the gun that killed him, but the man that did was aiming for me. Some hired hand looking to cash in on a bounty Alexei Yahontov had offered for the return of his son, but Ray gave me his name, his life, and the first hope I'd had in years that I could truly escape. No. I'm well aware a grave wouldn't satisfy you. There's already a stone with the name I was born under etched into it, but even that wasn't enough."

"You." The single word was filled with distrust. Perhaps he thought it had come too easily, but as Reddington met his gaze, all he could recall was the life's struggle trying to free himself had been. For him and everyone he loved.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't recognize me."

Bauer did, his gaze drifting up and down as if he were seeing Red for the first time. Then, something darkened there. "Katarina's girl."

"What of her?"

"After all of this, there must be something more if you're willing to throw it all away for her safety." He tapped the back of the driver's seat. "Take us to the airport."

"We have a deal," Reddington said tightly. "Nicholai for their safety. I'm here. You have me."

"So I do, but what kind of family reunion would it be without my granddaughter?"

* * *

If it weren't a scientific impossibility, Howard could have sworn that Katarina's approach had caused the temperature to drop several degrees around them. Her footsteps were silent and she didn't speak immediately, but he knew she was there. There was no mistaking it. Not that he'd give her the time of day. No, she enjoyed commanding a room in such a way that every eye turned to her when she wanted them to. He wouldn't give her that. His fingers moved along the keys, another line of code flashing across the screen. There. That's what he needed. A door cracked open. All it needed was a nudge, a push, and he could -

"You do enjoy making people wait, don't you?"

"Not particularly," Howard answered, never breaking eye contact with the computer in front of him. "Not if they're useful."

"And I'm not?" Katarina all but purred and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"If experience has taught me anything, I shouldn't trust a thing that comes from you."

"Yet here you are." She moved so that he could see her out of his peripheral vision. She leaned against the wall, crossed her arms, and chuckled softly. "Though we both know you're not doing it for me."

"Not doing it for her either," he muttered and tapped the enter button, initiating an old protocol that sent code scrolling up the screen.

"You forget that without her, you couldn't have had him."

He finally broke his steady gaze to turn to look at her. "Is there a point somewhere in there, Katarina?"

"You're blaming her. You shouldn't."

"Why? Because she was doing her job? Because it wasn't personal? You and Red might have that understanding, but you knew who each other were. Scottie hid who she was so she could use me."

"She protected you."

"She stole my tech."

"She used your technology to shield you."

"She tried to have me kicked out of my own company to cover her tracks -"

"Oh sure, because you've always been a shining example of mental stability."

" - and then when that didn't work she tried to have me killed."

"You don't really think she was responsible for the plane, do you?"

Howard clenched his jaw, forcing his voice to remain calm. "She is the reason Christopher was taken. She's the reason that bastard got ahold of him and destroyed his childhood. Her, you, the whole mess the two of you made…. And here you are after everything needing my help in a desperate attempt to save Red from taking a fall for your decision. Go away, Katarina. I have work to do." He turned back to the screen and he heard the redheaded woman push a long breath out in the form of a frustrated sigh.

"I've known her a long time. I saw her fall for you and I couldn't stop it. Yes, your son was taken because of the people she worked for, but because they needed a way to keep her in line. Her devotion shifted to you. It's the reason that, out of all of the options she had at her fingertips, she chose technology that no one else in your company could come close to understanding, much less use. They needed to keep you alive if they wanted to access the information. No matter what happened, they couldn't kill you."

He didn't dare look at her. Didn't dare risk a crack in his carefully neutral mask.

"Scottie hates Raymond, but they're not so different. They were both put in impossible situations for the people that they loved and the children they adored."

"What do you want from me, Katarina?"

"Immediately, for you to break the Archive open so that we can rescue Raymond and protect the children. But Scottie…. The world is more dangerous with you two at odds."

It was Howard's turn to give an indignant snort, but the computer chimed an alert that it needed his input to get through the next layer of security. He focused on it, and while he didn't hear Katarina's retreating footsteps, he was certain that the air around him warmed a little as she left.

* * *

Tom had tried to speak to her as the plane climbed into the sky, but Liz had gone painfully silent. It was clear she didn't want to hear anything else or to indulge in the possibility that he'd made the right call in the moment. He wished she would, because as the hours dragged on he couldn't help but question if it had been the right call. Reddington had told him to do whatever was necessary to protect her and the older man had chosen his own path, but that didn't mean that there hadn't been another way. There was always another way.

But no. He'd gone with Reddington's plan, and Reddington had given himself up to a father that had been hunting him down for decades now. What Bauer would do when he realized who Reddington was was anybody's best guess, but even if they cracked the Archive, there was a possibility that it wouldn't be soon enough to save Red. A possibility that Tom had helped to sign his death warrant just after Liz had finally received the truth. There was always another way, but even as he turned it over again and again in his mind, he wasn't sure what that would have been.

The bench seat he had settled on gave very slightly and Tom cracked his eyes open to find the woman he loved taking a seat next to him. She still looked a little shell shocked, her gaze distant and her lips tugged down at the corners into a pained expression that just wouldn't let go. She pulled in a deep breath, not turning to look at him as she spoke. "One of the biggest problems in our marriage - no matter which one - that we've run up against is you trying to make decisions for us both."

"It wasn't like we really had time for a debate," Tom offered softly.

"No, but you pushed me into the plane. You took my choice to fight for him away from me."

"What about his?"

"His what?"

"Choice. To protect you."

He found her looking at him now, those clear blue eyes focused so intently on him that it felt like they might cut through to his soul to lay it bare.

Tom sucked in a deep and what he hoped was a steadying breath. "I'm not saying it was fair. It wasn't. It isn't, but we didn't know what we were up against going in. We tried to get you guys out without leaving anyone behind, but that's not always how things work out."

"We could have fought for him," Liz murmured, but her tone was hollow.

"We could have all died there too. At least now we have a fighting chance. For us, for him…. That psychopath is your grandfather. If he's been looking for Reddington for decades, you think he's going to stop just because he got him? He'll piece together who you and Agnes are pretty fast."

He watched the words sink in. "He'd come for Agnes."

"Now we at least have a fighting chance. For her, for us, and yeah… even for Reddington."

Tears stood in her eyes and her voice broke as she said, "You hate him."

"Yeah, pretty much," Tom chuckled and risked reaching an arm around so that he could pull her close. She didn't fight him on it. "But I love you, so if you want me to, I'll fight to help you get him back."

"I can't lose him, Tom." She buried her face into the crook of his shoulder and he held on.

"You keep saying you _can't_ lose people, but you keep proving yourself to be the strongest woman I've ever met. You'd survive it, but you deserve better. I'll do my best to help you get that."

He heard a soft, broken laugh from her and she wrapped an arm around his middle and he pressed a kiss against her dark hair. "I love you," she whispered.

"Love you too. Get some sleep. We've got a few more hours to go."

"Stay?"

A small smile tugged at his lips and he settled a little lower in the seat. "Always."

* * *

The Post Office buzzed below where Scottie Hargrave stood on the catwalk just outside of Cooper's office. She'd spent hours locked away with him to pour over the details that would, eventually, help authenticate the Sikorsky Archive. She had hoped to avoid putting her name to it, but even with Katarina being willing to sign a statement declaring her part in it - an action Scottie hadn't been willing to bank on until the ink was dry - they needed to push the process through the channels quickly. If they didn't, Bauer would slip through their fingers and they might never have a chance like this again. He knew who they were, knew where to find them, and if they didn't bury him now they would never be safe.

The catch was that her name would be the final straw for the Board at Halcyon. With Howard's mental health still in question and his sentence unfulfilled, they wouldn't want a second blotch on their record. A professed spy who had worked for an organization that wasn't aligned with their government couldn't stay in as the CEO of a private intelligence firm. They would see the risk as too great, despite all the success she had had there. Even so, if losing it all would protect her son and his family, any price was worth it. If it came to it, she would sign her name right next to Katarina's.

Footsteps echoed against the metal as Donald Ressler appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked startled for half a moment at finding her there, but then motioned to Cooper's door that she was blocking.

Scottie flattened herself against the railing and watched him as he slipped by. "Have you heard anything from Tom?"

"I'm surprised your spy hasn't given you an update," the ginger fed answered testily.

"I sent her in to find out more on Bauer, not to spy on our own people. What happened?"

"Nothing on that front. Your husband had a breakthrough." He knocked on the door and followed the command to enter through it, leaving Scottie to process the words.

She was moving before she gave herself permission to. Down the stairs and past a curious set of federal agents towards the central area that she had heard them refer to as the War Room. Aram Mojtabai stood with Howard, his dark eyes wide, and Katarina was sitting on a desk nearby. Howard's computer screen was lit up with a thousand pictures and files, flying so fast that even as she approached Scottie couldn't make individual ones out. Along the bottom of the screen was a status bar that moved at a snail's speed. "You did it," she breathed.

"There was a day you had more faith in me," Howard answered, and he was distracted enough that there was a hint of amusement in his voice. It felt oddly familiar.

"I knew you could, but I'm grateful that you did."

He broke eye contact with the screen to turn and look at her. "It's for Tom," he huffed and she felt the barest of smiles turn her lips upward.

"I know."

"How long will it take to download to the FBI servers?" Katarina asked from her perch.

"Oh, it's not downloading to the FBI servers," Aram answered. "If the Fulcrum was anything to go by, the FBI and any other government agency has people that are compromised by the Cabal in it. There's no way to keep it out of their hands if we actually put it on our servers."

Scottie quirked an eyebrow as she heard Cooper and Ressler making their way down the stairs behind them. "So where is it going?"

"We're downloading it locally." Aram turned to another screen. "From there we can run an algorithm to compare it to federal databases so that we know who to approach with it."

"We've had some experience with situations like this," Cooper offered.

Katarina snorted. "That doesn't answer the central question: how long?"

Scottie's dark eyes flickered back to see the progress bar moving at a quicker pace than she had anticipated. Whatever Howard and Aram had set up was transferring the data fast.

"Hour, tops," Howard answered.

"Good." Katarina reached into her pocket and pulled a burner phone out and dialed.

"Who are you calling?" Aram asked nervously and turned, his gaze sweeping across anyone he hoped might be able to answer him. "Who's she calling?"

"The kids are out of the way. She's making a play for Reddington."

"We're not giving this thing to this Bauer," Cooper said firmly, his voice low, but even so Katarina hopped off of the desk and moved a little further away.

Scottie offered a small shrug. "We all know that, but he doesn't. You'd be surprised how well Katarina plays the desperate soul."

"Put him on," Katarina instructed and Cooper motioned at her. She frowned, but hit the speaker option on the phone as she said, "You know who this is. Put him on or he's going to lose the one chance he has at-"

" _Katarina_ ," a voice echoed through the War Room and everyone was deathly quiet. " _It's been some time_. _You daughter is as charming as you have always proven yourself to be._ "

"I do hope she left you with a new scar."

" _She may have_ ," the man on the other end of the phone chuckled. " _You wouldn't contact me unless you had it in your possession._ "

"I do, and I'm open to a trade."

" _You may be, but I'm not_."

Katarina's perfect mask slipped for the briefest of moments and Scottie saw confusion etched into her face.

" _Did you think, after searching for my son as long as I have, that I would simply hand him over to you_?"

"Son?" Donald Ressler breathed at Scottie's shoulder and she shot him a warning look. It was interesting information, certainly, and not something that would be overlooked forever, but there was a time and a place. The personal connection only upped the stakes. Bauer had been looking for his son and had inadvertently found his granddaughter. He likely knew that by now, and that put Tom's wife and child in danger.

"I know you, Alexei. I've known you for a long time. You helped build this and you finally clawed your way to the top. No Fitch to get in your way, no Kotsiopulos to screw it up. Just me and you've never been able to get rid of me." Her grip tightened around the phone, her tony icy and her gaze fixed on the small screen. "And if you hurt him, if you don't take this deal, I will burn you to the ground."

" _You're good. You always have been, Katarina, but you and Nicholai share a fatal flaw: you assume that you are the most clever players on the board. You should never assume that unless it's true_."

"And yet here I am with the Archive and there you are, risking everything."

A rough chuckle echoed across the line. " _No, my dear, you are. You picked the wrong fight_."

"What the hell?"

Scottie spun to where Howard's voice had broken the understood silence, but she saw immediately why. A warning sign flashed across his computer screen. Corrupted data. A virus or something. They'd been had.

" _You have nothing to threaten me with, nothing to bargain me with, and soon, your hubris will be dealt with._ "

"Mr Cooper, sir," Aram called as quietly as he was able to from his desk. "We have a major problem."

* * *

She was standing on a sandy beach. It was dark, the breeze tugging at her loose hair and the waves licking at her bare toes. She could hear Agnes's laughter somewhere in the distance, but it was Reddington that stood with her, his gaze fixed above the dark expanse of the water on a star shining brighter than the others. Polaris. The North Star. "Red," she breathed, turning to look at him and he offered a sad smile. Liz swallowed hard, steadying herself. "I'm going to find you. I'm going to help you get home."

His lips parted as if he were going to answer her, but the scene was snapped away to be replaced with the cabin of Reddington's personal jet. She was horizontal, curled up on the bench and her head laid in a lap. Tom's lap. Right. She must have fallen asleep.

"Hey," her husband's voice was soft, and she felt his long fingers run through her hair. "Lizzie?"

"It's been forever since you called me that," she said sleepily and she sat up. As she did, she spotted the reason he'd woken her. Dembe sat in the chair across from them, a tablet in hand and his dark gaze fixed on her.

"Things went sideways," Tom murmured. "We heard from Scottie on a secure line. They got to the Archive but there was… some sort of trojan horse or something. It deleted everything they had. Howard thinks he can recover it…"

"But?" she prompted, straightening in her seat.

Dembe handed over the tablet. "Bauer was prepared."

Liz drew in a deep breath and looked at the data on the tablet. They appeared to be alerts and arrest warrants sent out to federal and local agencies alike. She didn't bother asking Dembe how he'd managed to get ahold of something like that as she flipped through it, charges piled one atop another.

_Katarina Rostova. First degree murder, theft, espionage…_

_Harold Cooper. Aiding and abetting, espionage, evidence tampering…._

_Donald Ressler. Drug charges, murder, aiding and abetting…._

_Aram Mojtabai. Cyber crimes, breaking and entering, aiding and abetting..._

_Alina Park. Bribery charges, assault, aiding and abetting…_

_Susan Hargrave. Espionage, first degree murder, kidnapping…_

_Howard Hargrave. Espionage, cyber crimes, kidnapping…_

_Thomas Keen. Espionage, first degree murder, identity theft…_

There were aliases, last known locations, photos, relationships. The truly terrifying thing was how much information the Cabal had on all of them and had never released. Not just that, but they'd been able to fabricate authentic looking documents that would put a bullseye on everyone involved in a matter of hours.

"The Bonn faction," Nez said quietly from her seat. "Solomon didn't say a lot about his time with them, but even he acknowledged how brutal they were. Meticulous and dangerous. They were able to kill him the same day he let the information leak."

"They have to have access to a network of some kind," Tom murmured.

Liz snorted. "If they had a way to insert a trojan horse into the download of the Archive, there's a good chance they had the information. Could be why Bauer was more worried about finding Reddington than he was finding and protecting the Archive. He knew the cards he had to play." An alert caught her eye and she felt instantly sick.

Agnes' face stared up at her from the file, noting Scottie and Howard as the last people to be seen with her. Kidnapping charges. Right.

"You know Scottie'd do whatever it takes to protect your kid, right?" Nez asked, pulling Liz out of the horrified trance. She looked over to Tom and saw his expression darkened and dangerous.

"So will we."

She reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his, holding on tight. She looked down and a realization slammed into her like a physical blow. "I'm not in here."

"Which means he knows," Dembe said tightly. "He will come for you."

"He's coming for all of us, just in different ways."

"Do you understand now?" She shot him a questioning look and Reddington's most loyal companion pursed his lips together. "Alexei - Bauer - was always a few steps behind. There was no reason for him to suspect Raymond was once Nicholai unless Raymond's identity came into question. It was a thread he hoped would never be pulled."

"Until me. I did this."

"You had a part, but he also stepped back into your life. I don't think he felt he had a choice."

"I never would have hurt her," Tom said and Liz tightened her grip.

Dembe shook his head. "Not you. Her. He loved Katarina, but you, Elizabeth, were everything."

His way home.

She felt the knot in her chest climb into her throat and threaten to choke her as her vision blurred. "We're going to save him."

The man that she had come to think of as a brother gave a silent, stiff nod that he didn't look like he believed. It was okay. He didn't have to. She did, and she was determined to make it true.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Just when they thought they'd escaped..... Red taken captive, the Archive rendered useless, and the Cabal making good on Tom Connolly's threat from years before. As if life hadn't been hard before, it's about to get really rough.

 **Next Time** : Park gets a surprise visit in the hospital, Samar jumps all the way in, and the Keens stage a rescue attempt for the newly-arrested Donald Ressler.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Park gets a surprise visit in the hospital, Samar jumps all the way in, and the Keens stage a rescue attempt for the newly-arrested Donald Ressler.

They weren't telling her any more than they had to, which left considerable gaps in the information that Park was able to obtain from her hospital bed relatively fresh out of surgery that had pulled a bullet fragment out of her left shoulder. The charges had come out of left field and she'd found herself staring at the federal agent reading them off. She was FBI, she'd tried to explain. Part of a task force that answered Assistant Director Harold Cooper. Reach out to him. He'd confirm her place on his team.

Assistant Director Harold Cooper had a warrant for his arrest issued at the same time Park's had been.

Something was going on, and if she were to take a guess, it had to do with the case they'd been neck deep in for weeks now. Elizabeth Keen's family, the Sikorsky Archive, and this Cabal that everyone but her seemed to have come into contact with. Well, she could have lived happily on the outside of that knowledge if it'd kept her from having her name and reputation dragged through the mud. Especially cut off from her team. She needed to find a way to contact them. Park tugged lightly at the cuff around her wrist that bound her to the bed, her other arm equally useless in a sling, and movement outside of the closed blinds on the windows of her room caught her attention.

"Thank you," she heard a woman's voice as the door opened. British, she thought, and its owner appeared, dressed in a grey pants suit with her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore a badge that read FBI on it. "Special Agent Alina Park," she greeted.

"Yes. Are you going to be the one that gives me an answer to what the hell is going on here?"

The blonde shut the door behind her and her blue gaze darted ever so slightly. "Some evidence has surfaced -"

"I think you and I know that that's bullshit."

"Do we?"

"Somebody does. Cooper, Ressler, Mojtabai…. They're good people. Whatever they're saying we did is wrong."

"I know." Her voice was quiet, careful, as if she didn't want it to carry. "Are you able to walk?"

Well that took a quick turn. Park tugged at the cuff and the metal sounded against the plastic siding and matched her quieter tone. "If you let me go, sure."

"Right. Okay. I can pick a lock, in theory." She was becoming more and more nervous by the moment as she moved to the bedside. "I need you to keep talking. They think this is an interrogation."

"They also think you're a federal agent, don't they?"

"They do." She started working on the lock, muttering under her breath about the pins.

"I'm not going with you if I don't know who you are," Park warned.

"Oh. So sorry. Kat Carlson. Halcyon Aegis. I work directly for Scottie Hargrave."

"Tom Keen's mother."

"Yes." She didn't like something in her lock picking and cursed under her breath. "I'm not a field agent."

"But Scottie sent you?"

"We're limited on who we can trust, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Please tell me you're not alone."

"No, no. Dumont has another -" she checked her watch - "sixty seconds or so before he lines up our exit. There."

The cuff popped open and Park flexed her hand briefly before looking to Kat Carlson who looked to be waiting for something in turn. A moment passed, then another. Finally, an alarm screamed and the lights in the hallway went out. An immediate reaction could be heard from the other side of the door before it opened. "I have her," Kat promised and the agent took her at her word, disappearing again. She turned back to Park. "Okay, get up. We have to move."

"Did your guy kill the power? This is a hospital. People -"

"No, no. Don't worry. Just the lights." She put her hand to her ear and listened to someone on the other end of the comm. "We need to move. Here."

Park took what she quickly realized was a tranq gun. "Really?"

"It's not their fault the Cabal is using them."

"Fair enough. Let's go."

* * *

"Are we there yet, Miss Samar?"

Samar looked to the back seat where the little girl was buckled in as well as she could be without a booster seat. She hadn't had a chance to be picky when she'd popped the lock on the vehicle and hot wired it, the movements coming as easy as breathing. It was strange. She didn't remember that she remembered it, but the muscle memory was there. Maybe the other memories were too. She just needed access to them, like Howard had said.

"Miss Samar?"

The voice pulled her from her thoughts and she focused her attention. "Close."

"Will Mommy and Daddy be there?"

"We can't go where they are."

"Because it's dangerous?"

"Yeah."

"Is where we're going dangerous?"

"I hope not." Samar had been the only one other than Liz to be completely left out of the litany of charges that they had found. Aram had made sure to check several aliases, some that she didn't even know, and had said that it looked like she'd been an oversight. The problem was that Agnes' photo had been released in the form of an Amber Alert. They couldn't just take a cab to Samar's place, hence the stolen car.

"It's okay. I'll protect you," Agnes said and Samar glanced in the rear view mirror to find a face far too serious for any kid her age to be wearing. She meant it.

"How about we protect each other? Will that work?" There was a long moment as she thought it over before nodding. "Okay. Good, because we're going to have to walk a few blocks. You ready?"

"Yep!"

Samar pulled in a steady breath. She hoped she was too.

* * *

Something wasn't right.

They had landed in a field to avoid suspicious eyes and Edward was on his way to a secure location to make sure that the plane would be usable if they needed to make another quick escape. Chuck and Morgan met them with an SUV and a van, both fairly nondescript, that was meant to take them to the safe house that the others had set up. Nez was on a call with Scottie getting the exact location, but there was something about her posture and the way she turned so that they couldn't see her face or read her lips that screamed that something wasn't right.

"I don't like it," Liz grumbled and glanced over to see Tom nod in agreement.

"I don't like any of it."

Nez ended the call and turned back to them, doing nothing to alleviate that unease. "Good news is that we don't have far to go. There's a safe house owned under several layers of shelf companies here in Maryland."

"And Agnes?" Tom prompted.

"Safe. Apparently Samar Navabi's back in the mix? The Cabal didn't seem to know that either. She's got her until this blows over."

That wasn't it though. Liz straightened, steeling herself. "What's the bad news?"

Nez cringed subtly at the question. "Dumont started monitoring the law enforcement channels as soon as they got there. Donald Ressler was arrested."

"Where?" Liz demanded.

"Leaving DC. He made it as far as Glenmont and was pulled over by the county police."

"That's not too far from here."

"Elizabeth," Dembe said quietly. "Raymond did not turn himself over to lose you here. Agent Ressler will be safe."

She squared her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height that was still considerably shorter than the tall man. "He'll be safe because I'm going to go get him. Don't look at me like that. My name is the only one not being added to every arrest warrant in the metroplex."

"We don't know how long that will last," Nez pointed out.

"There's a reason Liz's name was left out of it," Tom said, his quiet voice drawing attention, "so there's no reason to think they'll release it late. With her badge, she's got the best shot at getting him out."

She stared, his immediate support on the issue not what she had expected, but she was grateful. "Thank you."

"But I'm going with you."

Okay, maybe not immediate support. Or a whole lot of thought. "Your name's out there too."

"And I've spent the better part of my life flying under the radar with all kinds of warrants out in a number of aliases," he countered. "I get that you need to do this, but you're not doing it alone."

"Pretty sure we've got a government license plate we can put on," Morgan offered and Dembe shot him a frustrated look. Liz had worked with the duo long enough to know better than to ask how.

"The longer we wait, the more roadblocks get in our way," Nez warned.

Tom turned to look at her. "Either we both go or neither of us do. You're not going at it alone."

She swallowed the urge to remind him that he couldn't dictate what she could or couldn't do and instead weighed the options. He wasn't wrong that she needed backup, and while she might be able to take Chuck or Morgan, if shit hit the fan she needed someone she worked well with, not just a warm body. She knew how Tom thought, she knew how he fought. If it came down to it, they would protect each other. "Alright."

A few minutes to change the plates out on the SUV and a quick talk with Dembe to promise him that they would reconvene at the safe house after they got Ressler out, Liz and Tom were on their way, Liz in the driver's seat. They pulled out through the brush and onto the road. She couldn't help but picture Reddington as he'd given himself up or of Ressler in holding without any idea if backup would come for him. Park had been injured and briefly placed into custody, Nez had lost the man she loved, and there was no guarantee any of them would make it out of this one. After everything, all the pain and all the struggle and the secrets that tore at them to their very souls, it couldn't end here. She wouldn't let it. She wouldn't let Bauer win.

Tom touched her elbow lightly, startling her out of her thoughts. "We're going to get him out," he promised.

Liz realized just how tightly she had been gripping the wheel and forced her fingers to loosen around it. "He's only in trouble because of me. Because he was helping me, because he's linked to me. And Reddington wouldn't have had to give himself up if they hadn't caught me in New Jersey."

"This is not your fault. Hey." He waited until she glanced out of the corner of her eye at him. "This is not your fault."

"Maybe not…. but I'm at the center of it all."

"We both are."

They were, weren't they? But he hadn't needed to be. "You wouldn't be if I had just left you alone."

"I also wouldn't have a clue who I was. Who we are," he said tightly.

"But you'd be safe."

"So what? I'd rather take the whole damn world on than not know you and Agnes."

Liz blinked hard as her vision blurred, tears threatening. She didn't dare risk the dam breaking by answering him, but instead took her right hand off the wheel and reached out. He took it instantly and a flicker of peace pushed back against the chaos threatening to drown her. Maybe it was selfish - no, scratch that, she knew it was - but she was glad to have him there. It always felt like they had a fighting chance when they took the fight on together.

* * *

Ressler was being held at a small sheriff's station. A couple of security cams, only one patrol car parked outside, and nothing looked like it had been updated in the current century. This was going to be child's play.

Tom tugged the hat that read FBI in bold print down a little lower and adjusted the windbreaker. Whatever Chuck and Morgan had been planning with what had been tucked away in the SUV, it worked well for their half-fake FBI cover. Liz's jacket was a little larger than looked right, but her very real badge would make up for it as Tom followed her inside. "Special Agent Keen," she announced as she flashed the badge at the desk clerk. "We're here to take Donald Ressler into federal custody."

The woman who must have been pushing eighty didn't bother to look up from her place at the front desk. Instead she held out a hand, palm facing up, and flexed her fingers. "Paperwork?"

"They should have faxed that over," Liz answered without missing a beat.

The woman - Marjory Wilson if the name plate could be believed - finally looked up and over her half-moon glasses. Her steely gaze flickered from Liz and to Tom, then back to Liz. "Fax machine's been on the fritz since 2015."

Liz pushed a frustrated breath through her nose. "Email?"

"Probably." Marjory leaned back in her chair and shouted down the hall. "Frank, the federal agents need your email!"

"Quickly," Liz pressed.

"Then you came to the wrong sheriff's office, Agent…. I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

Liz offered a tight smile. "Keen, and I'd suggest you speed things up. You may not think it's your problem if I don't deliver the prisoner on time, but my boss' boss will make it your problem. My guess is that Frank back there wouldn't be thrilled if his name isn't noted as the arresting officer, but if you delay us any more I'll make sure that his name is buried so deep in the paperwork that no one will know he existed, much less had anything to do with the arrest."

Marjory stared at her for a long moment and Tom had to work to keep his even expression. He wasn't sure if they hadn't worked a great deal together undercover or if he just couldn't remember it, but she was _good_. Talented. Liz read the situation and applied the appropriate amount of pressure needed. It was something that couldn't fully be taught - and certainly not by the FBI - so a good deal of it must have been innate. If life had shook out a different way and her parents hadn't managed to get her to a solid home, she might have landed on Bud's radar around the same time that he had. Wouldn't that have been interesting?

Slowly, Marjory reached for something on the other side of the counter and produced a business card between two bony fingers. Liz took it and flashed a smile that might have passed as friendly if someone hadn't just heard the exchange. "Why don't you take me to the back and I'll start prepping the prisoner for transfer while my partner here contacts our team for the documents you need?" She handed the card back to Tom. "Let Susan know?"

Tom took the offered card and felt the corner of his lips twitch up in a lopsided smile. "Anything you need," he promised and he could see the flint of amusement in her eyes. She was enjoying this.

He dialed as Liz started to the back of the small office and let Scottie know what they needed and where they needed it sent. Even without her usual resources readily at her fingertips, her voice didn't waiver. Instead she told him that the documents would be in the inbox within ten minutes and Tom was left to wait in the closest thing to a lobby that this tiny station had. His dark blue gaze swept the photos on the wall, the dated decorations, and he made sure never to tilt his head so that the single camera could catch a clear glimpse of his face. Marjory seemingly had no interest in speaking to him as she sauntered back to her desk, sitting with a huff and going back to what he could only assume was some sort of record for the slowest-typed file in this history of US law enforcement.

The door chimed behind him and he turned, catching US Marshal uniforms out of the corner of his eye. Shit. This wouldn't be good.

"We're here to take custody of Agent Donald Ressler," one of the Marshals directed at Marjory who shot him an irked expression that he'd interrupted her theoretical work.

"FBI's already here to do that," she grumbled, motioning at Tom.

Tom turned just enough to offer a nod of acknowledgement and he saw the other man reach into his jacket. "I have paperwork here that says otherwise."

"So do they. Just came through."

Scottie might not be the most forthcoming human being on the face of the planet, but it was good to know his mother could come through in a pinch.

The Marshal - Reynolds, according to the name tag on his armored vest - turned his full attention on Tom and there was no ducking the steely gaze without drawing more attention. "Special Agent McDuran," he answered, reaching into his pocket to produce the fake badge that he'd snagged from amongst Chuck and Morgan's stash in the back of the SUV. Liz wouldn't be thrilled he was taking the whole impersonating a federal agent act even further than they already had, but better that than blowing their cover. He'd done worse. She had to know that. "My partner and I have instructions to transfer the prisoner."

"Where?"

"DC," he took the gamble, hoping it was right and years of training making it sound like he never questioned it.

Reynolds frowned deeply, looking back at his partner - a petite woman still standing at the door and looking as distrustful of the situation as he did - before shaking his head. "Ressler's an FBI agent. We're in charge of the transport."

"I don't know what to tell ya, man. You'll have to take it up with DC."

"Keen," the woman at the door said as if she had been trying to place him from the moment that he'd been forced to talk to them. Everything that followed was a blur of motion and instinct.

Reynolds drew his gun and Tom moved, open palm shoving the other man's forearm to throw the shot as it went off. He slammed his other hand up, heel into the man's nose and knocking him back. Tom pulled the sidearm from his now loosened fingers and dragged him in front to use him and his body armor to shield him from the other Marshal's shot at the door. Reynolds dropped to his knees, the bullet clearly having driven every ounce of breath out of him, and Tom leveled his gun at the man's head. "Drop yours," he demanded.

"And you put the phone down."

Tom didn't dare turn at his wife's voice behind him, but kept his own gaze fixed on the lady Marshal at the door who was slowly setting her weapon down. "Kick it over and cuff yourself to that chair in the corner."

"You're not gonna get far," Reynolds wheezed. "There's a manhunt after you."

"We're not the bad guys here," Tom promised, and even as the words tumbled from his lips he knew there was no reason for the man to believe him. He wasn't even sure why he wanted him to, but he plucked the cuffs from the Marshal's belt and nodded towards another chair separate from his partner. "Cuff yourself there."

"That escalated quickly," Liz murmured as she came up to stand at his left shoulder. "They recognize you?"

He snorted and risked a glance back to see Ressler checking the ammunition on a gun in his hands. "Ressler."

"Tom," the ginger agent greeted back. "We need to get out of here."

Everyone safely cuffed or otherwise dealt with - not a peep from Frank, however Liz had deemed to deal with the sheriff in the back - and cell phones removed so that they couldn't immediately call it in, the Keens and Ressler pushed through the doors and into the sun outside.

"Hey," Ressler called from his right. "Hey. Tom. Are you hit?"

Tom paused and followed the icy blue gaze of his wife's partner down to his side where blood was starting to soak through his shirt. There was something about acknowledging an injury that somehow helped to eat through the adrenaline rush and pinpoint the pain on the other side of it. He winced, a soft hiss escaping him, but he shook his head. "Let's get moving. Nothing we can do about it here."

"Tom…" Liz managed and her expression gutted him. Her gaze was fixed on the blood and the colour had washed out of her face.

"C'mon," Ressler pressed. "We have to go or we're all going to jail right now. I'll drive."

The offer seemed to be enough and Liz nodded, reaching into her pocket and handing over the keys to the SUV. She grabbed hold of Tom's hand, pulling him towards it and halfway shoving him into the backseat as her partner took the driver's. She followed in after him, but waited until they were on the road before she motioned. "Let me see."

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked, was it?"

"More of a demand, really," he tried for a little levity and instantly regretted it. He tugged his ripped shirt up to reveal a gash where the bullet had clipped him right along the ribs. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't going to kill him either. Liz sniffed hard from her place directly next to him on the bench seat and he looked up, finding tears standing in those beautiful blue eyes he loved so much. "Hey," he coaxed, reaching out to her and hoping that the blood on his fingers wouldn't offset his gentle tone. "I'm okay."

"Yeah," she answered shakily.

"We're okay."

"Yeah."

"We're going to be okay."

She pressed her lips together and folded into him, the stress of everything seeming to press down against her. Tom did his best to suppress the sharp intake of breath as her arm wrapped around the newly-dealt wound and pulled her into him instead, resting his cheek against the top of her head and loosing a long breath, feeling some of the stress release with it.

"I hate to interrupt the moment, but I have no idea where we're going. I hope you two lovebirds back there have a plan."

Tom shot Ressler a long-suffering look via the rear view mirror and saw the other man's lips quirk up in a smirk. "Get over to the 355 and go north. We need to find a place to ditch the vehicle and find a new one. We're heading up to a place Scottie and Howard had stashed away in the Wildcat Forest."

"Fantastic, because nothing ever goes wrong when you're in a cabin in the woods."

"I mean, Solomon doesn't work for the Cabal anymore, so he won't be shooting it up." The fact that the other man was dead would put a stop on that too.

He heard the other man snort a laugh from the driver's seat. "You remember that?"

"Guess I do."

"Well, we made it through that."

"We'll make it through this," Liz acknowledged, straightening a little, but not quite letting go of him. "We have to."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes** : Okay, first and foremost, you're welcome for not carrying Tom getting clipped into the next chapter without answering how bad it was. The temptation was real, but I feel like we've all been through enough lol

Second.... Did anybody see the sneak peak for tomorrow's episode that dropped today?? The one with a certain flashback? Because I'm over the freakin' moon XD

 **Next Time** : Reddington receives a long awaited but chilling answer, Katarina reveals some secrets, and the Keens take matters into their own hands.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reddington receives a long awaited but chilling answer, Katarina reveals some secrets, and the Keens take matters into their own hands.

They found a suitable replacement for their SUV in a truck parked at the edge of a rest stop. Liz had popped the door open and hot wired the thing with more ease than Ressler looked comfortable with, but Tom couldn't help but be grateful that they'd missed what could have been a breaking point. He wished he could give her whatever she needed - time, attention, hope, _anything_ \- but if they stopped now, they might not have the chance to finish this. They'd gotten lucky with the way things had turned out with Ressler and they couldn't push that luck now. They had to finish this. It was the only way they had any hope of coming out the other side alive.

A passing cop car on the highway was the only real scare after the truck stop, but he had flipped his lights on and chased someone down a few cars ahead, leaving them to make it to their destination as the sun was setting.

The so-called cabin wasn't quite as rustic as Tom had pictured it. It was large and Scottie had said it was stocked with enough firepower to withstand an assault if it came to that. The front door opened as they pulled into the drive - well off of the road and out of sight - to reveal Katarina Rostova, her fingers wrapped around a sidearm. Tom was pretty sure he saw the glint of a sniper rifle from one of the upstairs windows too, but even Katarina seemed to relax as they piled out. Chuck - or maybe Morgan, he wasn't sure he'd gotten them straight to begin with - pushed his way out onto the porch. "What'd you do to my Chevy?" he demanded, looking personally offended that they'd shown up in something other than he'd sent them on with.

"It didn't go smoothly," Liz answered.

Katarina tilted her head, her gaze focused on Tom. "I can see that. People enjoy hurting you, don't they?"

He snorted and followed Liz into the house, Ressler at his back and Chuck or Morgan inspecting the replacement vehicle.

The space was open inside and the sound of footsteps drew his attention to the stairs down the hall where Nez was making her way down with a rifle in hand and rounded into the hall as Scottie entered from an adjacent room.

"Where are we with getting back into the Archive?" Liz asked, the question not directed at any one person.

Scottie's eyes widened. "Tom?"

He waved her off. "I'm fine. Just need a new shirt."

"And to stop letting people shoot you," Ressler popped off and Tom turned an amused look at him.

"You offering to play shield next time?"

"You just need to move faster, pal."

Tom pulled back as Scottie reached to try to inspect the injury and he shook his head. She pushed what sounded like a frustrated breath out through her nose. "Howard and Aram are working on recovering the data we lost with the trojan horse. Did you tell them?"

Katarina breezed past them, aiming for the room Scottie had entered from. "Dumont and Park may have uncovered Raymond's trail."

Liz straightened at that. "His trail?" she called after her mother, following her and the others joined them.

The den had been converted to a makeshift War Room with monitors set up and tables pushed together for workspaces. Harold Cooper straightened from where he and Dembe were bent over what looked like a map as Nez set her rifle against the wall and circled around to join them. "Good to see you all made it," the assistant director greeted.

Tom glanced over to where a bespectacled man sat with Alina Park, her arm set carefully into a sling and a computer between them. Dumont, he thought he remembered. He worked for Halcyon. He'd worked with him.

"Dumont, what'd you find?" Liz pressed, her focus absolute. Good to know he'd gotten the name right.

"Private jet put in a flight plan outta Bonn, Germany not long after you guys took off. Couple of hours."

"What makes you think it's Reddington?" Ressler asked.

"Location, plane type, and this. The kicker." He spun his laptop around to show what looked like a satellite image of the plane on the runway and the passengers entering, including a very familiar figure being ushered in at gunpoint.

Tom tilted his head. "I don't get it. That's him. Why's it just a trail?"

"Because they never landed where they said they would," Park answered. "All the documentation says they did, but zero footage proving it."

"We're looking at surrounding options," Nez added. "With Reddington on the most wanted list, landing at a major airport is out of the question."

Scottie shook her head. "I've seen him bypass airport security before. We can't count on that."

"But he wanted to," Liz countered, her gaze sweeping the work that her team, Red's, and Halcyon's had been focused on while they had sprung Ressler from jail. "He only gave himself up to give us a chance to escape. My guess is they're not going to give him a chance to use airport security to help him slip away."

A hand tapped Tom's arm and he turned, finding Kat Carlson standing there with a fresh t-shirt and jeans. "The downstairs bathroom has a fully stocked first aid kit," she offered and he took them. A quick whisper to his wife later, he slipped out of the room, hearing the conversation echoing behind him.

* * *

The flight from Bonn to the US was not a particularly pleasant one. He had been cuffed to his seat with a guard for company. A man with steely eyes and a jaw set so tight that it pulled the corners of his mouth down into a perpetual frown. He hadn't said a word, no matter how much Reddington had goaded him. He'd just sat there like a statue or a British Palace Guard, blinking far less than a human had right to do. Or not do, as it were.

For Alexei's claims that he'd been looking so long, he hadn't bothered to acknowledge Red's existence after proclaiming that they were going after Elizabeth. He'd taken the seat furthest from his estranged son, and Reddington would have been perfectly alright with that arrangement under any other circumstances. The problem was that he needed information, and information wasn't bled from stones. He'd hoped to use answers to what must have been countless questions that had built up over the years to help pry what he needed from the older man. If he didn't know what they were up against, he would have no way to protect Elizabeth.

They landed, but where they landed wasn't information his marble guard was willing to give. The window remained closed, and even when he reached over to try to pry it open it had stayed firmly fastened in place. When the engines shut off and the pilot spoke quietly with Alexei at the front of the aircraft, Red heard nothing. Finally the guard was given the signal and he reached forward, a key in hand. "Move slowly."

"Well now, he can speak," Reddington chuckled as the cuff popped loose and he massaged his sore wrist.

The next instruction was by way of a sharp motion to stand and Red was shuffled off of the jet and down the steps into a closed hanger that gave no clear sign of where they were. Alexei stood speaking to one of his people - one could only assume it was a man of his, not that he'd been on the plane with them - and waved him off. He turned, that calculating look of his sweeping Reddington up and down, and he might as well have been eight-years-old again. He shoved that feeling deep down inside of himself and plastered a confident smile on his lips to hide it. "What was the highest that the bounty made it up to?" he prompted. "Ten million? Fifteen?"

"Twenty- five," Alexei answered. "You didn't follow it long."

"I didn't follow it at all," Reddington countered.

"I would have thought Fitch kept you apprised."

The younger man snorted. "I would have thought that was a story you fed her. You really thought Alan Fitch helped me stage my disappearance. Wouldn't that have been fun? Perhaps things would have been easier if he had."

"You were close."

"We met while I was in the Naval Academy. No more, no less. He never knew the truth." At least he didn't think he had. Funny, he'd always called him _Ray_. Fitch had always been one to hold his cards close and hoard his aces away for when he needed them. If he'd known - if Katarina had told him - Alexei Yahontov's son would have been a hell of an ace to hold.

Alexei snorted, the sound amused, but even all these years later Reddington knew better than to believe that. "If you believe Fitch didn't know exactly who you were, you're as much of a fool as you were when you were a boy. Arrogant. I would have hoped that you would grow out of it, but you were always your mother's son."

An old fire burned through him at the mere reference falling from his tongue and, despite his cool head in any other situation, he found words tumbling out, biting and sharp. "Leave her out of this."

"She did you no favours by coddling you. Shielding you."

"Don't."

"I warned her."

"And then you killed her." Killed her and somehow found time to make arrangements to send him back to Russia before her casket had even been lowered into the ground. He hadn't been interested in sending his wife's body back to their home country, claiming his diplomatic duties would allow for it. Knowing what he knew now, Reddington would have wagered it was a very different kind of work that had made it more convenient to kill the wife and send the rebellious teen back home. Exile. Excommunication. He'd wanted to stay in the United States, just not with him. He'd wanted nothing to do with him.

Alexei snorted disdainfully. "Your mother died in a car accident."

"How many times did you need to repeat the lie to make it true in your own mind?" Reddington growled, feeling the muscles just below his eye give an irritating twitch.

"Perhaps the same number of times you told yourself I murdered her."

"You did, and then planned to send the rebellious child away. Out of sight, out of mind, which begs the question as to why?"

"Why?"

"I might as well have been dead. Why would that matter enough to sink the resources that you have in? To look for a deadman."

"You're my son."

The words stuck and Reddington felt every survival instinct in him scream a warning. "And?"

"I choose what happens to my blood, not you."

A chill ran through him. He'd known. Somewhere deep inside of him he'd known that this was about control, but with Elizabeth in the cross hairs now, it terrified him. She was his blood and he knew it.

* * *

It was a waiting game now. Dumont and Park were searching for any sign of the plane Bauer - Alexei, apparently - had taken from Bonn while Howard and Aram worked to recover the data lost. Tom had stepped away for a bit to redress the gash along his side and change his clothes, and now was talking on a secure line with their daughter. Liz watched as Tom's expression lightened a little more with whatever Agnes was saying on the other end of the line, a smile tugging into place even if she couldn't quite capture that sense of peace that often accompanied quiet moments with her family. That moment was merely the calm in the center of the storm. More chaos was quickly heading their way.

"He's good with her."

Liz jolted, startled by her mother's unexpected voice. Not many people could sneak up on her like that. She forced herself to relax and tried for a smile. "I still don't like how you did it, but I don't think I've ever thanked you for bringing him back to us."

Katarina quirked a ginger eyebrow. "No, you haven't."

The younger Rostova resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," her mother answered with an almost teasing smile. "I'll admit it was selfish. I knew he'd protect you."

"We protect each other."

"You seem to be doing a better job of it than Raymond and I did when you were Agnes' age."

Liz's gaze darted towards the den where the majority of the group was gathered and back to the dining room that Tom was pacing on the phone. "We have some time. You want to tell me the story?"

Katarina stared at her for a long moment before motioning for her to follow. The two women moved through the house and out the back door into the cool night. The porch from the front wrapped all the way to the back and they took a seat. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything?" Liz prompted. She wanted answers, but no matter how hard she'd fought for them they always seemed to be out of her reach. "I'm not interested in half truths or lies. I want full answers or nothing."

"Full access," Katarina acknowledged.

All the questions had been swirling around in her mind for so long, but in that moment they seemed to be impossible to pick out from one another. They folded in and around and on top of one another like kneading dough. She pulled in a deep breath, calming her raging thoughts. "How did you meet?"

"Raymond?"

"Yes."

"As children in Russia. Papa - Dom - was a well respected KGB operative and Alexei was in the bureaucracy. Raymond - Nicholai then - and I grew up together and played with our friend Ilya until Papa moved us to the United States."

"You were sleeper agents?"

"We were an experiment that didn't work out."

"So you didn't see him again until…?"

"Years later. He was married. He had a little girl on the way and a career and a name that didn't really fit until he was free from it all."

"That little girl is my sister. She grew up without a father because you framed him."

"I did frame him, because in this world sometimes - most of the time - you have to choose the lesser of two evils." Her gaze drifted skyward. "And she wasn't even his, so she's not your sister."

"What?"

"Carla -" the name left her tongue like a form of mockery - "was pregnant when they got together. He thought he should love her so he convinced himself he did. He never had any business raising that woman's child, but it fit the part he was trying so hard to convince himself could be true."

Liz cringed, the memory of the way she had dug the knife in and twisted about the Christmas he had disappeared from his family when she'd sat across from him at the Post Office. If she'd known then what she knew now….

"Is that it?"

"How did you meet him later? After he met Carla."

This time, Katarina's smile was a little softer. "At a bar in New York. I saw him and I knew him the instant that I did. What mattered, what didn't. I knew Constantine didn't matter, that the line I balanced between the KGB and the Cabal didn't matter." And then her smile slipped and her eyes darkened. "His father recruited me to the Cabal. I should have known, but we were young, and I'd always loved him. For what it's worth, both Scottie and I were trying to protect our families by doing what we did. We —"

"Liz?"

Liz turned, finding Tom at the door. "Hey, babe. Everything okay?"

"Good news. They did it. Howard and Aram got the intel back."

She was on her feet in a flash, stopping only when she realized just where their conversation had been cut off. She tried for a smile and offered her mother a hand up. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being honest."

"How do you know I was?"

Liz chewed on her bottom lip, considering for a moment. "The same way I knew you're really you."

* * *

The announcement that Howard had recovered the Archive sent the safe house of supposed allies into a firestorm of arguments as to what their next step should be. Everybody wanted something different. The feds wanted to send it to a "trusted" source within the government while Scottie wanted to lock it away at Halcyon. Howard, alternatively, wanted to release it free and open into the world. Would that truly cripple the Cabal? Maybe. The Fulcrum had certainly done damage and the United States government had acknowledged the organization's existence at the time that Kotsiopulos had been ousted from their ranks - apparently by way of a thirty thousand foot drop - but everything that had unfolded from the release of the Fulcrum until that point proved that the government itself couldn't be relied upon to authenticate the information quickly, or even at all. Prior acknowledgement was no guarantee that they would turn their efforts away from the people hiding out in the safe house and towards the real enemy.

Voices overlapped, each one over the other, until the end result was that no one could really understand anything anyone was saying. Tom ran a hand up his face and across the top of his hair, pushing a long and frustrated breath out through his nose. A quick tap to his shoulder drew his attention and he looked up to find Liz standing next to the couch. She motioned silently - because, really, what was the point of trying to be heard over the chaos - and he stood to follow her out of the room. If anyone noticed that they left, it hadn't stopped the bickering.

"What do you say we end this?"

He quirked an eyebrow at that, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. "What do you have in mind?"

"By the time they figure out what they want to do with the Archive, Reddington'll be dead and any hope we have of clearing our names will be gone."

"You want to get the Archive?" Tom asked, and watched the mischief dance in her eyes. Not that there'd been any question before, but he did love that woman.

"You in?"

"For you? Always."

Her hand slipped into his and she didn't have to tug hard to pull him towards the stairs. The others may not notice that they were gone immediately, but at some point someone would clue in that neither of them were there. They needed to move quickly.

Howard and Aram had been working out of a small, interior room that had been designed for Halcyon operatives that needed a secure location. It was sealed shut, the door thick and sturdy and secured by a keypad on the wall. Tom leaned in to take a look at the keys, checking for any that appeared more worn than others, but Liz nudged him out of the way, pulling a compact out of her pocket. He shot her a questioning look. "From the bathroom. Do you really think your mother has a safe house that's not fully stocked with both weapons and cosmetics?"

As much as he felt like he should argue that, he couldn't find an argument that made sense from what he knew about his mother. He watched Liz open it up and blow, the powder sticking to the keys and showing the combination that had had oily fingers on them most recently. "That keypad takes a five-digit code. That's a hundred thousand combination possibilities that'll probably lock us out if we get it wrong twice."

"I only need one," Liz answered and typed in 7-2-6-2-7. The keypad gave an immediate beep, the lock clicking open to reveal the room.

"Samar," Tom acknowledged and his wife shrugged.

"It's Aram. It's always going to be Samar."

The inside of the door and the walls inside were covered by a wire mesh, forming up what must have been a faraday cage - likely set up after they recovered the data - to interfere with reception and keep Bauer from getting back into their systems again if he caught on. The Keens moved in slowly, careful of any security that might not be quite as easily spotted as the keypad at the door. It looked clean. Too clean, almost. While the lock and the cage indicated that this was the room they thought it was, the laptops set up on the table were devoid of any meaningful material.

Liz stopped scrolling through the second one there and she frowned deeply. "You don't think this is a decoy room, do you?"

Tom ran his hands along the underside of the desk. "While we probably shouldn't underestimate Howard's paranoia, I think the security is set up for intruders, not us."

"Because he trusts us or because he didn't think he'd get so caught up fighting it out with everyone on what to do with the Archive that he could lose track of us?"

"Yes."

He saw his wife's amused smirk out of the corner of his eye and he echoed the expression, his nimble fingers finding what he was looking for and he pressed the hidden button. A keypad popped up out of the desk with a screen, a single phrase scrolling across it: _The world breaks everyone..._

"Well that's… cheery," Liz said from behind him and glanced back.

"It's a quote," Tom answered, the memory tugging at him, but the funny thing was that it was Scottie's voice rather than Howard's that finished it. _...and afterwards, some are strong at broken places._ "My mother loves Hemingway. I guess maybe Aram and Howard have something in common."

"Yeah, but the difference is Aram knows it," Liz said softly as the computer chimed its acceptance and the desk slid open, revealing a device that looked like a phone. "What is it?"

Tom reached in and the device lit up just under where his thumb was pressed down against it and it seemed to read his print. He didn't even want to know how Howard had had that on file so easily attainable that he could - and would - upload it to the device. It opened and they watched the system scroll through the data. "This is impressive. Looks like everything we need. Now what? You have a plan or are we just winging this?"

"Do you have my back either way?"

"Yes." He should have been worried how easily that truth rolled off his tongue, but if she was in this, so was he.

* * *

There had always been a sense of entitlement over his life as a child and into his teenage years before he escaped. His mother's death had simply taken away the last remaining barrier to it. Now, a lifetime later, it didn't appear that even his son's supposed death and certain disappearance had done anything to dampen Alexei's absolute demands. Those around him weren't to be loved and appreciated, they were to be owned, and anything less than absolute obedience to that had to be dealt with. Now that he knew who Elizabeth was, he would see her as his to do with as he pleased, and historically, Reddington knew that it had always pleased Alexei to hurt him.

They had remained at the private airport that they had landed at and met up with additional security there. Two guards had escorted Reddington back through winding hallways and offices to a supply closet and left him alone like a child that had proven too rowdy at his father's office. A small window at the top let a little light in, and was the only way he had even a fraction of an idea how long he'd been in there.

After being left seemingly alone he stood and circled the small space to take inventory. It had been mostly cleared out before his arrival with only a few cleaning supplies left behind, though nothing flammable or of any real use. A few rags, an empty mop bucket without the mop, a box full of dusters. He crouched down, moving as well as he could with his wrists bound together in front of him, and pushed boxes aside in the shelves. Some were empty, others filled with useless items, but just about the time he was ready to acknowledge defeat for this round, he spotted a lone paperclip pushed to the back of the shelving, clearly missed by whoever had done the sweep. It wouldn't be useful in removing the zip ties around his wrists, but it might prove useful on the lock.

Reddington paused, pressing an ear softly to the door to listen for any signs there was someone on the other side. He gave the handle a sharp tug and listened again. If they were there, they weren't responding. He went to work on the lock.

Three pins in he heard footsteps. He froze and felt the lock release from the other side before the door jerked open to show a man with a gun ready. "Herr Bauer will see you," he said in sharp, intentional English.

"Oh will he now?" Reddington huffed and motioned dramatically for him to lead the way, the paper clip still sticking out of the inside lock as into taunt him that he'd just missed his opportunity.

Alexei stood like a war commander in what must have been the pilots' office, looking at a collection of security screens that they had set up. Each one showed a different part of the small airport, all quiet except for one. Red tilted his head as he watched a pickup truck that idled outside the gates.

"She's persistent, I'll give you that."

Reddington felt a knot begin to form as Elizabeth stepped out of the vehicle, waiving directly at the camera in the gate. "She wouldn't have come alone," he stated, hoping it was true even as he said it.

"No, she brought the Hargrave boy with her, little good it will do her," Alexei chuckled. He reached forward, pressing a button to connect to the gate's intercom. "Finding yourself more alone these days?"

" _I'm here to make a deal_ ," Elizabeth answered, and her words echoing over the com made Reddington's heart sink.

"Come inside and we'll chat. You're welcome to bring your husband if you're not particularly attached."

" _I think I'd rather have you come to me_."

"And why would I do that?"

" _Because I have something. You said that you didn't care about the Archive, but that's not true, was it? You care about it, just didn't see it as a threat because you had a contingency in place_."

Reddington watched as a man that had always towered above all else, a giant set to crush ants beneath his boot, actually tensed very slightly at the words.

" _We did too. In fact, Scottie Hargrave had one in place when she and my mother stole it. I don't have to tell you about Howard. You know what he's capable of. You tried to recruit him. You may have wiped out the data with the trojan horse, but you didn't wipe out the guy that could recover it. Put him together with our guy…._ "

"You're bluffing."

The video wasn't pristine, but it was good enough to see Elizabeth's smug expression. " _Peter Kotsiopolus thought so too several years ago, and I'm sure you know where it got him. I knew who he was and I know who you are. Alexei Yahontov. The list of atrocities that you're personally responsible for would make both my mother and her father's KGB careers look like child's play. You were one of the founding members of the Cabal on the Russian side. When you'd destroyed even your own allies' faith in you, you used your connections to build your new identity to stay in power after the wall fell. I know everything about you. Your aliases, your bank accounts, every safehouse you have. It's amazing how detailed paranoid organizations can be. Mutually assured destruction, right? It leaves you with nowhere left to run._ "

"Herr Bauer," a voice called and Reddington looked to the side where one of Alexei's lackeys stood, and the man looked afraid to cut in at that very moment. He should be.

" _What_?" the aging Cabal head growled.

"We're getting reports of sightings at every exit and closing in. If we don't leave now, they'll be inside."

"Then stop them."

"We don't have the manpower."

"Impossible. They couldn't have the resources to overtake us. We cut them off. Even Halcyon's board wouldn't have let the operatives in."

"Sir, the feeds are clear. If we're going to go, we have to go now."

As if on queue, a bullet pierced the window closest to them, ricocheting, but a second followed immediately after it and found its target. Alexei stumbled back, dark red blood blossoming against his dress shirt.

The movement was instant, his people holding him up and shuffling him forward, something about the helicopter on the pad outside being clear for the moment. They had to move then, dragging their injured boss' son with them. He didn't fight back, didn't struggle. If he did, one of them was bound to shoot him, and if Alexei somehow made it through this Elizabeth would have no one to truly shield her from him.

Reddington was shuffled into the helicopter first, half thrown across the seat so that he landed behind the pilot, one of the lackeys following in behind him to help Alexei up and into the means of escape. The door slammed closed behind him and the blades began to spin above them.

Alexei turned, his expression drawn but hateful. "She is certainly your daughter. Katarina's fire, but your foolishness," Alexei called over the sound.

"She's won," Reddington answered, his voice strangely steady as they began to lift off the ground, bullets pinging off the outside of the helicopter. "You can't see it yet, but she's already won."

"Perhaps her daughter is still young enough that you haven't corrupted her. A chance for the bloodline."

"That was always your foolishness."

"What's that?"

"You underestimate what I'm willing to give to protect those I love." He lunged forward, slamming the pilot into his controls and the helicopter careened to the side and towards the building.

* * *

**To Be Concluded**

**Notes** : I made sure not to leave last chapter with a cliffhanger for Tom's life because I knew what this chapter's end was. Oops?

Next week's chapter is the conclusion to this story, but I do have some one shots and I _may_ have been talked into at least considering (read that: the plot bunnies are gnawing on my ankles) a short multi chapter that takes place after 8.04 and brings Tom back because I'd really like to see how he would react to Liz as she is now. I have thoughts, but there's nothing like actually writing the story to find the answer lol Fair warning, though, I am in research/plotting mode for a pilot, so those updates probably won't be immediate. Just keep your eyes open for them :)

See you guys next week for the conclusion. Until then, what do you think? Is Red going to survive this one?


	35. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of Love Me Twice.

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Epilogue**

"Walk us through it one more time."

Tom shifted in his seat, a muscle twitching uncomfortably in his back from the lack of lumbar support the metal chair gave after hours of sitting in it. "Why? Nothing's changed since the last time you interrogated me."

The young woman in the seat across from him frowned very slightly. "This isn't an interrogation, Mr Keen. You're -"

"Giving a statement. Yeah, you've said that, but usually a statement is taken and that's the end of it."

"I'm sure you can understand our abundance of caution."

"Is that what DHS is calling it these days?"

"Mr Keen…."

He snorted, leaning forward in his seat and feeling some of the pressure release from his back at the change in position. "Howard Hargrave and Agent Aram Mojtabai recovered the data from an archive codenamed Sikorsky. With that data my wife - Agent Elizabeth Keen - and I acted as the decoys to lure Alexei Yahontov into the open, and our three tech specialists were able to use some slight of hand to trick their security into thinking we had more people on our side than we did. It worked, put them on their guard, and one of our people got a good shot off."

"Former Colonel Nez Rowan?" the DHS officer clarified.

"Yeah. You people probably recovered the slug in Yahontov' corpse."

"But it wasn't what killed him."

They'd been over this again and again and again. Tom knew what they were looking for: any slip up, any possible hint that what each of them were saying happened hadn't actually happened. After everything they had been picked up at the location and the feds had taken the Archive. With the prior acknowledgement of the Cabal by a National Security Advisor and the United States government, it hadn't taken them long to authenticate enough of the Archive for it to become abundantly clear that this team of people they'd been after weren't as guilty as they had thought. They had each been issued an ankle monitor - a precaution - and had had their passports revoked - useless - before dragging them in on a daily basis to interrogate them on every detail of what had happened.

"The helicopter went down before it got too far off the ground."

"Do you know why?"

"I can make an educated guess."

"Does that educated guess have a name?"

Interesting. That was new, and it set off every alarm that his training had ever instilled in him. "You'll have to take that up with the feds."

"I'm DHS."

"Yeah, I know, but my guess is it's still above your pay grade."

The woman leveled a calm, even look at him as the scene played out in Tom's mind. It was the same scene that he knew had woken Liz night after night since it had happened: the helicopter had careened around into the building like someone had forced it down. He knew who. This DHS officer might have even known who. He just wasn't going to be the one to betray Reddington, not after this.

"Remains were recovered. Jonas Bauer -"

"Alexei Yahontov," Tom corrected.

"- and several of his associates. Are you saying one of them took the helicopter down?"

"I'm not saying that."

"Then what are you saying, Mr Keen?"

"I'm saying check with the feds. If Harold Cooper won't give you the name, neither will I."

"Harold Cooper did give us a name."

Tom's lips twitched up into a smirk. "Bullshit."

"Excuse me."

"Bullshit," he repeated, the smile broadening. "I know a liar when I see one."

"So do I."

"What makes you think I'm a liar?"

"Well, for starters, your death certificate."

"Misunderstanding."

"I'd love to know the details."

"SCI7."

"I don't know what that is."

"Exactly. You get clearance for that, you can have everything you're fishing for. Until then, we done? I have a little girl that's been waiting for her mom or me to pick her up and tell her life's going back to something like normal."

His would-be interrogator that was so far out of her league she didn't know which way was up smiled at him, the expression tight and guarded. She stood, said something he didn't listen to, and left him alone in the room.

He knew what she wanted him to say. She wanted him to give her Reddington's name. Maybe Katarina's. He was pretty sure she had been the one to leak the Archive even after the feds had gotten their hands on it. The world knew now. There was no covering it up.

He wasn't going to give her up either.

The door opened again some time later and a new face appeared. He didn't know this one. "Mr Hargrave," he greeted. Okay. He had higher clearance that the woman that had been in there with him. "I apologize for the wait. The formalities have been handled and we can remove the ankle tracker. We appreciate your help and cooperation."

"Scottie threaten to sic the Halcyon lawyers on you or did she just finally find a body you buried?"

The other man chuckled and held the key to the ankle tracker. Tom swallowed the follow up retort. No need to push his luck.

* * *

The call came through late enough in the afternoon that they had already started prepping dinner while Agnes coloured and chattered away at the table. If it had been pressure from Halcyon lawyers or an understanding that he wasn't going to give the name they so desperately wanted, they had finally cut Tom Keen loose once and for all. He was the last one of them held up in the so-called _interviews_ that had felt more like they were one step away from the deepest, darkest hole that the Department of Homeland Security could have found to toss them into, somehow managing to keep their attention a few hours longer than his wife. It was over, though. Done. And unlike Liz who had gotten pulled immediately into a meeting with Cooper at the Post Office, Tom was on his way over to pick up their daughter.

Which meant this, too, was over.

"Who was that?" Samar asked from her place at the stove, stirring at the rice and sauteed mushrooms that would end up in their risotto.

Aram pursed his lips together, a lie almost tumbling from his lips in a desperate attempt to hold onto their time just a little longer. She was going to leave after this. Mr Reddington might be gone, but Dembe could just as easily set her up with a new identity. The information released from the Archive had rocked the world in the week and a half since, and even though Mossad had more pressing matters to attend to in this post-Sikorsky era of intelligence, there was no guarantee that Samar was out of the woods yet. Mr Cooper was working on it, but until he had it, she had to lay low. He'd been one of the first released from custody and she'd asked him to help look after Agnes while the little girl's parents fought for their freedom, but no matter how beautiful that little pocket of time had proven, it was over now. Tom would come get Agnes and Samar would disappear. Even if Mr Cooper could secure her prolonged reprieve by leveraging their part in the Archive's recovery, Samar might be too deep into her new cover to reach by then.

"Aram?"

He turned, finding her looking at him and his heart skipped a beat. He sucked in a breath he hoped would steady him and plastered on a smile for Agnes who was watching him as well now. "That was your daddy, Agnes."

She lit up like a menorah eight nights in. "Daddy!"

"Yeah, he's on his way."

"Do I get to go home?" she demanded, the colouring project completely forgotten in light of the news.

"We know how much you've _hated_ being here," Samar teased, leaning down to the couch and scooping the little girl into her arms, tickling her as she did. Agnes giggled and Aram felt a strange swirl of peace and fear waging war for his emotions.

"But you and Uncle 'Ram will come see me, right?" Agnes demanded and Samar pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Or course." The lie was so easy. So believable. He almost fell for it. "He won't be here until after dinner, so you still need to wash up."

Agnes darted off and Aram's dark gaze followed her until she disappeared around the corner. He didn't realize that he'd been staring at the empty space long after she'd vacated it until Samar reached forward, her touch light against her arm. "You want to tell me what's bothering you?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, no words actually tumbling out.

Samar's lips quirked up at the corners and he saw an old, familiar look as she turned back to the risotto. "Did I tell you that Tom's parents offered resources so that Dr Orchard and I can continue my treatments?"

"In New York?" Aram asked, feeling a terrible twinge of hope. New York wasn't far.

"No, here in DC."

He straightened, shoulders pulled back and head tilted to the side in question. "You're staying?"

"I'd planned on it," she answered casually, like they weren't discussing his dream-come-to-life being pulled out from under him all over again. "I was making a lot of headway with Dr Orchard, and she was right: the time I've spent with you and the others has helped."

Aram couldn't argue that. Even in the week and a half that they'd been watching Agnes he'd seen improvements. Bits and pieces of the woman he'd known continued to surface. Unlike Tom regaining his memories, Samar's seemed to be more of an unconscious reclaiming of her former self. An old habit here, a memory of something funny that had happened here.

"I thought you'd want me to stay."

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Aram jerked around to look at her. "Don't you have to… you know, go? Or start over under a new identity?"

She turned, leaning against the counter next to the stove in a way that reminded him of their cooking escapades in years gone by. "I don't think so. Dembe did some digging for me and Scottie reached out to some old Mossad allies she had. The hit's not their priority, and it sounds like as long as I don't make it one, neither will they."

Aram loosed a small, startled breath. "So you're staying?"

Her lips curled up, the smile reaching her eyes. "I'm staying." She pushed herself off forward, using the momentum to cover the step and a half between them and pressed a quick, surprise kiss to his lips. "So you can stop sulking."

"I'm not… I wasn't…"

"Sure you weren't."

"All clean!" Agnes announced and ran back into the room, displaying her hands for anyone that might question her.

Dinner was a much lighter affair than it might have been if Samar hadn't gotten a read on Aram's mood. They laughed and teased, ate and chatted until a knock on the door sent Agnes scurrying towards it. "Daddy!" she cried, tugging the door open without question.

Thankfully Tom was on the other side of it.

He flashed a bright grin of his own, bending down to scoop her up, spinning her around until he settled her in his arms and she draped herself over his shoulder in an unrelenting hug. "You miss me, kiddo?"

"Uh-huh! Are we gonna go see Mommy?"

"We are. She's just wrapping a few things up and we're going to go meet her at the park. How does that sound?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her temple and she nodded. "Why don't you go get your stuff?"

She squirmed to the floor, darting off to the guest room for her bag and leaving the adults there. Tom turned with a sheepish grin and wave. "Hey."

"They took their time clearing you, didn't they?" Aram asked, grabbing both his and Agnes' plate to move them to the sink.

"Yeah. Pretty sure they thought they were going to get more from me than they did."

Samar chuckled at that. "Their time wasted."

"And mine. Thanks for watching her."

"Any time."

"How's Liz?"

Tom turned to look at Aram and his friend's husband clearly understood the depth of the question. It wasn't the first time that any of them had been held and questioned. That was just another day with the Task Force. They'd all known what Mr Reddington had meant to her, even if it was difficult to keep up with it sometimes. Her father, not her father…. Aram didn't really think it mattered in the end. Despite everything, blood hadn't been what made their connection. It had been much deeper than that.

"She's… holding. Not ready to talk about it yet."

"We're here for her. She knows that, right?"

"Yeah, she knows. Mostly because everyone keeps telling her."

The amusement in his voice warred with the words and Aram stood balanced between how to respond. Finally the smile gave him away and he echoed it, ducking his head slightly.

"It's okay," Tom said quietly. "She needs to be reminded. You know Liz. She's an island."

"Yeah."

Tom's gaze shifted between Aram and Samar. "You two holding up?"

"We'll get there," Samar answered, her voice more confident than their collective history might have given them right to be.

"Ready!" Agnes announced as she crashed back into the conversation, her bag slung over her shoulder and grabbed Tom's hand, ready to drag him to the door.

"Hey, you," he called after her, putting on the breaks. "What do we say?"

Agnes turned and looked at them with the most sincere look any child could muster. "Thank you very much." She launched forward, wrapping herself around Samar's middle before moving to Aram and echoing the hug. "Love you!"

"You too," he answered and Tom offered them a helpless shrug as the little girl half dragged him out of the apartment, leaving Samar and Aram truly alone for the first time since they'd been reunited.

A long stretch of silence followed before Aram risked a look at her. "You're really staying?"

"Do you want me to?"

"More than anything."

"Good."

He felt a hesitant, but real smile tug into place, and for the first time since he'd realized that she had left, he felt like there might be a chance to make things right again.

* * *

"I have to admit that I thought you'd met your match this time."

Scottie finished pouring a glass of scotch, taking both it and its twin over to the couch where Melanie Cartwright sat waiting for it and offered the Assistant Attorney General a charming smile. "You've known me for a long time. Where's the faith?"

The other woman chuckled and took the drink. "At some point even the cat uses up her nine lives."

"Guess this just means that it wasn't my last. Now you know better than to bet against me."

"True." The glasses clinked and Scottie found Cartwright looking over the rim at her. "There are plenty of people you could have invited here this evening if your goal was to prove that not even a multi-decade, global conspiracy could dethrone you, and as much as I'd love to believe this is a social call…"

"It's not." Scottie reached around to the table next to the couch in her office and pressed her thumb against a hidden pad. It lit up, reading her print, and a panel opened to reveal a jump drive. She took it and held it out. "Needless to say there was information in the Sikorsky Archive that could have and would have compromised people in our own government."

"Why not hand it over to the FBI?"

"They received their fair share of it, but you and your boss may want to clean house."

Cartwright grimaced, eyeing the drive. "And in return?"

"Howard."

"Your Howard?"

Scottie's lips thinned at the incredulous tone. "I know that the government has been using his talents, but I believe they'd be better served here."

"You're bargaining for his freedom?"

"The DOJ has looked the other way when we've brought in certain operatives before. I'm simply asking you to do it again."

"Your board will never go for it."

"You let me worry about the board. What do you say? It's a small price to be able to handle your situation quietly."

There was a beat of silence, then another, before Cartwright reached forward and snagged the offering. "I'll have the paperwork sent over first thing in the morning."

"Perfect." They clinked the glasses together and Scottie took a long sip from her own. Negotiating Howard's release from federal custody wouldn't put her over the finishing line in repairing all of the broken trust between them, but someone had to make the first move, and as first moves went, she thought this one was a step in the right direction. She was willing to make it. For him, for their son, for their grandchild, and even for herself.

* * *

They had released them one by one. While they said it had to do with clearing their stories, Ressler had a suspicion that they were hoping to get things out of certain people. The group from Halcyon had been the first to walk free, those pricey lawyers that they kept on retainer making sure of it. Tom had been the exception to that, which only helped support Ressler's theory. Park had been the first released from their side, followed almost immediately by Aram. The rest of them had taken a little longer, and while they hadn't been held in cells until cleared - fit with tracking devices and sent home instead - the time had dragged on. Not that they'd gotten what they wanted from any of them. This wasn't their first time being framed.

The door to Cooper's office opened, drawing Ressler's attention as Liz made her way down the steps, typing quickly on her phone. He offered her a tired tug of his lips into something that resembled a lopsided smile. "I was starting to think they weren't letting you out."

Liz snorted. "They _just_ released Tom. It's like they thought we knew something."

"You need to head out to go get Agnes?" They'd left her with Aram and Samar in hopes of providing a little bit of stability while they spent hours upon hours in a windowless room answering questions.

"He's grabbing her and coming to pick me up."

"So you have a few minutes?"

She leaned back against the desk. "Sure. Got something on your mind?"

Ressler started to give her a flippant, teasing answer, but then swallowed it before it escaped. He started and stopped another two times, the words warring in his mind and he saw his partner seem to clue in. "It's weird."

"Yeah?" he asked carefully, taking a seat at an empty desk. He hadn't seen her more than in passing in the last week and a half, but from what he understood she hadn't talked to anyone about what had happened. He wasn't the best at providing emotional support, but he could try. He wanted to.

"Isn't it? He was such an overwhelming part of all of our lives for years and he's just…. gone."

Ressler pursed his lips thoughtfully and let his eyes slip closed. "I still remember that day. Got the call after I'd already gone home, but I don't think I'd ever gotten back to work as fast as I did that evening. And I didn't even have a chopper come pick me up."

"I remember being so shocked. I handed Tom the keys and told him I didn't need the car." A soft, amused sound escaped her. "Like that was important then. I was about to be escorted over restricted airspace on my first day of work on a task force that would change everything, but the car seemed so important right then."

"Never could have dreamed it would have brought us here."

"No." He saw her gaze slide over to him. "You ever regret it?"

"Which part?"

"Any of it. The things that came to light, the things we did…."

"We did a lot of good, Liz."

"Was it worth it?"

"I think so."

She nodded, pulling in a deep breath and she rocked forward, elbows against bent knees and her clear blue eyes laser focused on him. "Dembe dropped by my place last night. More this morning than anything."

Ressler straightened at her conspiratorial tone. He was alive. The bastard had somehow made it.

"Reddington had it all set up to be pushed into motion in case he died. He was sick, you know. Maybe that's why he did it. Giving himself up, crashing the helicopter… everything."

Okay, so maybe not. A part of Ressler hated how disappointed he was in that. "He did it for you. You know that."

"I do."

"What'd Dembe want?"

She loosed a long breath. "To tell me that all of Reddington's assets had been transferred to me. His money and…. Everything else."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the Blacklist can continue if we want it to."

"He left information?"

"I haven't gotten a chance to look at it yet, but it sounds like it. Probably not an A to B kind of map, but at least enough information for us to find these people."

"To put them on our radar," Ressler mused, and he couldn't help remembering that conference room eight years before. _I certainly don't want your intelligence, Agent Ressler. I'm quite happy with my own._ "Do you want to? Continue it, I mean?"

Liz didn't answer immediately. He would have understood if she said no. She'd been dragged into all of this, and in so many ways it had destroyed the life she thought she wanted.

"I think I do."

And maybe it had helped shape that life she loved too.

"You talk to Cooper yet?"

"Yeah. He's staying."

"Me too."

Her lips curled up at the corners, the smile reaching her eyes. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

The creaking groan of the lift drew both of their attentions around and the doors opened, emptying Tom and a very excited Agnes out. " _Mama_!" she called out, flying out of the lift and barrelling towards Liz. Ressler's partner stood and caught her mid-leap, spinning her daughter around and holding her close. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," Liz answered, pressing a kiss to her daughter's dark hair.

"I _may_ have promised her a visit to the park," Tom announced, a sheepish grin set firmly into place. "Are you good with grabbing take out and making a picnic of it? Someone already ate, but I bet we can bribe her with dessert." He winked at Agnes and she loosed a shrill giggle.

"I think I can get behind that," Liz answered. She looked back to Ressler. "You good?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I will be," she promised and straightened. "I'm going to take some time. With my family."

"But you're coming back?" he asked, and he hated how worried he sounded.

"Of course. There's no blacklist without me."

"Right." He glanced down at his goddaughter, offering her a quiet led smile. "You take care of your mom?"

"I will!" the little girl answered, but was already tugging Liz towards the exit.

Ressler offered Tom a nod of acknowledgement. "See you around, Tom."

"Count on it."

"And all the trouble that comes with it," the ginger agent chuckled and watched as the Keen family started towards the lift, Agnes chattering about her time with Aram and Samar the whole way. Ressler shoved hard at the sinking feeling the sight elicited. She'd be back. It wouldn't be the same without Reddington, but they'd find a way to hold onto the good he'd done with the Task Force.

* * *

Agnes prattled on and on about Uncle 'Ram and Auntie Samar - her designated names for them, not Liz's - all the way to the park. The long-winded story paused only briefly as Tom had reached back, tapping her on the leg as a signal as they pulled up to pick up their to-go order, and had immediately resumed as soon as they pulled away. It was good, Liz reminded herself. They had people they could rely on when things went sideways, and Agnes adored her godparents. She just hoped that she didn't have to rely on them nearly as much as she had in the past few weeks surrounding the newest batch of chaos that they had just lived through.

They got to the park and set up their feast at the picnic table. Liz hadn't realized just how starved she was until she started in on it, the BBQ they had picked up hitting the spot. She found herself reveling in the quiet, peaceful moments, the first they'd really had with each other in years now that she thought about it. Tom's smile and Agnes' laugh gave her life, despite the pain that she'd been shoving down to get through the last handful of days. The Powers that Be wanted to know more about Reddington. They wanted it on the record what had happened, but she - and as far as she knew, everyone else - had refused to give them that. Get the clearance, you get the information. That was the deal. No one had the clearance, they just wanted the intel. It had been a wild power grab if she'd ever seen one, and she wanted no part in it. She wouldn't be used to further someone else's career.

"I think she's going to have a meltdown if we don't go see the ducks," Tom's voice cut through Liz's thoughts and she turned an amused look on him.

"She knows which parent is the one to go to for that."

"You saying our kid can manipulate me?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"And you'd be absolutely right." Tom leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Come find us when you're done eating."

She watched him follow after Agnes, their kid already racing after the ducks at the pond nearby. They both looked so happy. So content. It was more than she'd hoped for before he'd come crashing back onto the scene. He might not have everything back, but there was enough. She saw the man she loved, the man she'd chosen to raise their daughter with. They'd figure out the rest of life's complications as they came along.

"Masha."

Liz was halfway to reaching to her hip for the gun that she'd left in the car as she turned to find Katarina suddenly there, as if she'd appeared out of nowhere. She'd been taken with the rest of them, but how long she'd stayed in custody, Liz had no idea. No one would tell her anything and it had taken every resource she had to find out that she hadn't been dropped into a deep, dark hole somewhere. She'd just vanished and left the rest of them behind. Until now, apparently. "Mother," she greeted back.

"Let's take a walk."

She stood silently, risking a glance to where Tom was totally engrossed in Agnes' antics, before following after her mother. The two women walked into the nearby treeline, and out of immediate view of the busy area, Katarina leading the way. After they found themselves totally alone, Liz stopped. "I didn't know if I'd see you again."

Katarina paused, hesitating only a moment. "I needed to take care of a few things. I knew you were in good hands."

"Yeah, my own," Liz snapped, feeling her temper skyrocket without warning. "I didn't need you to take care of me, but after crashing back into my life I would have liked to have least gotten to say goodbye."

"Is that meant for me or your father?"

The words cut deep and she wondered if she was that easy to read to everyone else around her. "There's a difference in sacrificing yourself and leaving."

"Death does wipe away all of one's sins to the living, doesn't it?" Katarina asked, her tone amused and she tilted her head to indicate they had a bit further to go.

Liz followed, winding around behind her, and she opened her mouth to remind her that her family had no idea why she'd left when she spotted a familiar figure ahead.

He was seated and tired looking, but still wore that suit and fedora with the same style that he had since her earliest memory. Liz swallowed hard, tears blurring her vision.

"Don't be hard on him," her mother said softly. "He still did it for you."

She didn't bother to ask what that meant, but started forward, each step intentional. As she drew closer she found that just because a body hadn't been recovered didn't mean that Raymond Reddington had gotten out of the burning building without a scratch. He sat on the bench, his shoulders a little more slumped than they might have been any other time, and his gaze was fixed out on something in the distance. What, she wasn't sure. There were only trees in the direction he was looking.

"Reddington?"

He stiffened a little at that, turning towards her, and he looked older somehow. Healing burns marred his face and she saw that the arm furthest from her was in a sling. The same leg was stretched out as if it were injured as well, a cane set on the ground at his feet so that it wasn't immediately noticeable. "Elizabeth," he breathed, and his eyes lit up a little.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep control over her emotions, but even as she struggled with them she found it didn't matter as much. She covered the ground between them even as he stood, flinging her arms around him and pulling him to her. "I thought you were gone."

"I am," he said softly. "As far as the world is concerned, I am. You're free."

"What if I don't want to be?"

A low chuckle escaped him and he reached a hand to the side of her face, his thumb running along her cheek bone. "I've set it up so that your team can continue our work. The funds are there. You and Agnes and…. Tom will be well taken care of."

"We'd be fine without it."

"I know, but… let me give you this. Please."

"Red…." She reached up, her hand grasping onto his wrist. "I know you…. Whatever's going on, whatever health issues you've had… you're here. I don't want to waste time."

"It may not be as limited as we thought before," he answered. "Howard is proving a better friend than I gave him credit for, and the man has always had vast resources."

"He's taking care of you?"

"Yes."

"So this isn't goodbye?"

Reddington hesitated. "Elizabeth…. I have been in the middle of your life for too long now."

"You're my father. I want you in the middle."

"You're not safe as long as they know I'm alive."

"Bauer's dead. Alexei is dead. They recovered his body."

He offered her a strained smile. "You and I both know that my father was not my only enemy." He paused, looking like he was struggling with something. "Everything I have done has been to keep you safe. This as well, but to keep you - and your family - safe, no one must know."

"But it's not goodbye?" she pressed and he gave her a small smile.

"You have resources now that you never had before. I trust this isn't the end."

"I'm going to need you." The confession stuck in her throat halfway before making it free.

"And I'll be here. For as long as I am amble."

"Dembe…."

"He knows, but he also knows it's time. Look to him for anything you need. You'll provide an easier path for his soul in the end."

Liz tried for a smile, her tears making it difficult. She reached forward and Reddington met her there, pulling her into a hug and nestling a kiss to the side of her head. "I love you, Elizabeth. Never doubt that."

"I won't."

A touch to her shoulder drew her attention around reluctantly and Katarina offered the barest of smiles. "Take care."

"You too. Both of you."

She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Liz's forehead before moving past her. Liz didn't dare to look back around. They were going, and if she turned now she'd stop them. She'd put them on countless lists and open them up to too many dangers. Better that the world thought them both gone. Safer.

"Liz?" Tom's voice broke through the silence that followed. Liz closed her eyes, steadying herself. She'd see them again, she had to believe that, but for now, it was time to focus on what lay ahead. She broke out of the thicket to find Tom looking for her, Agnes only marginally distracted. "Hey," he greeted. "Everything okay?"

"Just… getting some closure," she answered. "Did she find some ducks to feed?"

"So many," Tom chucked and Liz met him where he stood, her hand slipping into his.

"I'm here." The promise stood out, honest and real against an old one that she'd given him over eight years before. She was there for him. She was there for her family. Not just for them, but with them, above everything. Nothing was more important than that.

_End._

* * *

**Notes** :

There's always a strange sense of both relief and sadness when I finish a project. It was there when I wrote the last words, but it wasn't quite done. I had to edit it and then it's not really over until the last chapter is posted and I change the settings over to show that it's a finished piece. Today's the day and while I'm thrilled to be working on a new pilot and some other things, I'm really sad to see this one come to a close. I started it maybe two years ago? It was an idea that took hold and just wouldn't let go, so I wrote a bit and then put it on the back shelf to work on some originals. Then around this time last year I dusted it off, took a look at it, and dove back in to get a good buffer between what I was posting and what I was writing in case I wondered off again. Months and a cross-country move later, here we are. And look, for those that I told that I would _try_ to get Red out alive in this one, I succeeded ;) 

I'm backlogged on a few one shots that I owe people for Keen2 that I hope to work on in the semi foreseeable future and will show up over in Truth in the Lies when they're posted. I also have this insistent plot bunny gnawing at me with an idea of the Cabal being responsible for Tom's 'murder' and that while Liz is on the run and trying to kill Red, Red and the Task Force find out that Tom's alive. I _may_ have the first scene down. There's a chance if I think that one won't show up for a long while I'll post the scene over in Truth in the Lies as well. It's a sweet Liz and Agnes scene, talking about Tom so it'd fit nicely there.

You are all amazing! Give me a shout if you ever want to put a one shot request in for Truth in the Lies :)


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